A New Kind of Dragon
by RaptorusMaximus
Summary: Once again, it falls to the Dovahkiin to right the wrongs of the past and bring about a new age of peace. Honestly, she's OK with that. Really. She just wished that elf would stop giving her dirty looks over her choice of armor...
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: There seems to be an abundance of Nordic_** _Dovahkiin_ ** _wandering about Alagaesia in this section of the website. Figured I'd add some diversity. Enjoy!_**

A New Kind of Dragon

Ch 1

Trissa Blackfire slowly awoke from a slumber she did not remember falling into. The Dunmer woman blinked groggily as she looked at the darkened forest around her, the small clearing she rested in bathed in silvery moonlight.

Trissa sat up and stretched her stiff muscles, slowly standing as she took in her surroundings in more detail. This was not a forest she recognized, but that was not overly surprising. She hadn't seen every forest in Tamriel, after all.

 _What the hell was I doing last that would put me_ this _out of it?_ She thought.

As she mulled over her foggy memory, Trissa looked up at the hole in the canopy to see if she could determine her location via the stars.

However, considering the fact that a moon appeared to be missing, that may have been the least of her problems.

Trissa gazed up at the lone satellite in shock, her mind slowly turning over as it recovered from the shock, and jogging her temporarily lost memory.

 _Oh, that's right._ Trissa thought, eyes still locked on the pure-white sky-orb. _I was dying._

...

Trissa laid in her bed in her quarters in her house just outside Solitude, on a cliff overlooking the Northern Sea, surrounded by her friends and family, breath haggard as an Altmer poison ran rampant through her body.

All things considered, she'd had worse days.

The Dunmer woman smiled weakly at the people around her, and marveled that someone like her had managed to draw such a motley group together.

Karliah was, as usual, partially hidden in the shadows of the corner of the room, the nightingales' eyes gleaming with sadness from the darkness nonetheless. At the doorway to the room was Brynjolf, the thief leaning on the sturdy frame as he nursed a tankard of ale.

Serena stood off to one side, the ancient vampire looking a little uncomfortable as she talked quietly with Tolfdir, the old mage taking maximum advantage of the opportunity to talk to such an ancient creature as her.

 _Probably not used to so many questions._ Trissa thought with a quiet chuckle.

Hadvar was there as well, the Imperial soldier still dressed in his armor and he would have looked somewhat out of place if her weren't standing with the Aela and Vilkas, the bonded Companions also sporting full suits of armor still flecked with small spots of blood.

On the other side of the room, Lydia and Farkas stood together at a window, the large man's arm around his wife's waist as they looked out over the ocean. Trissa knew that Lydia blamed herself for her condition; a Housecarl was supposed to protect their charge, and in that she had failed.

Trissa wished she wouldn't place the blame on herself. It's kind of hard to shield your charge from a poisoned arrow when they jump in its path, after all.

 _I really hope the Emperor appreciates this_. Trissa thought as a new spell of coughing wracked her body.

And of course, at her bedside, hand clasped tightly around her own, warm brown eyes damp with unshed tears as he watched her slowly fade away, was her Bosmer husband, Brolmir.

She smiled weakly at the man that had, both literally and figuratively, saved her from death or worse a dozen times as he watched her slowly fade. She squeezed his hand weakly, just to reassure him that she was still here, when a deep thumping noise became audible over the quiet chatter of her friends and companions.

Everyone fell quiet as they listened to the thumping grow louder and louder, before an earth-shaking BOOM sounded outside the house. A few people swayed on their feet, but no-one so much as flinched as the heads of two dragons, one white-scaled and weathered, the other red-scaled and vibrant, appeared through the doors of the balcony connected to the master bedroom.

" _Dovahkiin,"_ The red drake rumbled. "I have returned with those you sent for."

Trissa smiled and struggled to sit up despite her husband's protest. She forced her way past her weakness and propped herself against the headboard, nodding in thanks to the red dragon. "Thank you, Odahviing. And thank you for coming, master Paarthurnax."

The ancient white-scaled dragon blinked slowly. "It is only proper for the leaders of dragonkind to be here when the last true _Dovahkiin_ passes back to our father's care." Paarthurnax said. "And I would not leave a friend to face the end alone. Besides, your children should be here for you in this and Odahviing cannot carry three people."

As the old dragon said this three cloaked and armored shapes lept from the necks of their draconic transport and rushed to their mother's side.

The twins, Glonas and Sellin, were still dressed in the student robes they wore whilst studying with the greybeards (though she could make out the shape of Glonas' leather armor beneath the robes), their hoods lowered as the brother and sister ran to Trissa's side, tears streaming down Sellin's face at the sight of their indomitable, unbreakable mother laid so low; and Glonas was not far behind his sibling in that regard.

Feliris, unlike her younger siblings, was dressed in armor alone, a set of burnished ebony that shone like liquid shadow in the torchlight. Trissa saw her daughter trying to maintain her composure, but the stiffness in her gait and posture indicated the rampant emotions running beneath the thin layer of control she had managed to keep up.

Trissa waved Feliris over, and took her hand, pulling her in closer. Feliris complied, leaning in so Trissa could whisper in her ear.

"So, how goes things with the crown prince? Is the Imperial Line going to be getting a new shot of dragonblood anytime soon?"

Feliris jerked back, a shocked expression on her face as she felt her cheeks warm at her mother's insinuation.

"Mom, really, _now?_ You are literally on your deathbed, this isn't the time for things like that!"

Trissa laughed, but her expression was serious. "This is exactly the time for it, my dear. If I'm going out, I want to know that the people I love will have happier things to look forward to after I'm gone. So I ask again, do you have feelings for Prince Barris?"

Feliris glanced down, then looked back to Trissa and nodded, a tiny movement little more than a twitch.

"Then don't let him get away, like I almost did with your father." Trissa said. Feliris nodded again, this time with a bit more force.

Satisfied, Trissa turned her attention to her younger children, who had barely reached their twentieth years. "And how goes your lessons on the _Thum_?"

Sellin sniffed, her tears abated for the time being, and said "They go well, mother. I have grasped _Fus, Ro, Yol,_ and _Fo_ , and I am close to understanding _Dah_ and _Toor_."

"I am a bit behind Sel, mother." Glonas said, his voice wavering some. "But I've managed to get a handle on _Laas, Feim,_ and _Wuld_."

"Good, at least I won't be the last of the dragon-blood to speak in the Voice. I…" Whatever she was about to say was cut off as the woman began to shake violently, her arms twitching as she shook under the effects of the poison that moved through her veins.

After a few minutes the convulsions stopped, and Trissa's vision cleared. She could feel it, her time was almost up. Time for a few last words…

Serena stepped forward then, her tone a mixture of exasperated and desperate. "Trissa, please, you don't have to just accept this. I can help you, if you'd just stop being so stubborn!"

The dragonborn just shook her head, even that action sapping her strength now. "No, Seiena, I think once was more than enough. Besides, I don't want to risk the poison affecting you too. Then where would we be?" She slumped a bit, tired from talking, but she pushed through to speak again.

"You all know I'm not one for long speeches, so I'll make this brief. Every one of you in this room is important to me; comrades, friends, family, we've been through much together, even stopped the end of the world. So I won't say goodbye to you; I say thank you, for standing at my side against the horrors that we've faced, and for staying with me once the horrors are defeated."

The light began to dim then, and she saw Brolmir and her children lean over her, frightened looks on their faces as their mouths moved, but no sound reached Trissa's ears.

 _Goodbye, my family. I will see you again at my father's side..._ Trissa thought, and her eyes gently closed as the last Dragonborn passed from the world of Nirn,

...

Trissa opened her eyes again after what seemed like an age, finding herself surrounded by a brilliant white landscape that she could not really perceive. The only part of this place she could make out was the massive golden dragon that rested before her.

However, unlike almost every other time in her life, this dragon did not trigger the Song, for it was from him that it originated.

Trissa smiled at the being, and in a rare display of respect, fell to one knee before it, bowing her head in reverence before the chief of the Divines.

"Hello, lord Akatosh; I thank you for granting me to walk within your realms." she looked up and grinned happily at the god-that-was-her-father. "It is good to be home."

The great dragon rumbled in acknowledgment of her greeting, before glowing brightly from within, forcing Trissa to avert her gaze.

When she looked back, gone was the dragon, replaced by a stunning elven man in bright armor with a sword made of starlight at his side.

"Hello my daughter, it pleases me to have you at my side once again. However, I fear that you cannot stay with me for long."

Immediately, Trissa's face fell, and she let out a tired sigh as she wearily stood.

"I should have known that death wouldn't save me from running your errands. What do you need me to do now, dad?" Trissa said, her tone both annoyed and accepting of her burden as Akatosh's errand girl.

Akatosh frowned at his daughter's rapid mood change, but it was swiftly hidden again behind a serious expression.

"I see this is not pleasing to you, so I shall be brief. There is another physical realm that the Divines and Daedra had a hand in creating besides Mundus. This realm was created after your own, in a sort of experiment of the limit of our powers. To be completely honest, most of the Aedra and Daedra have either forgotten or lost interest in this land, but I and a few others have kept an eye on it, and we are disturbed by the darkness growing in this realm. There is great pain and strife racking the people of the land, and I cannot stand by any longer. So I am sending you, my greatest avatar, to set right the wrongs of Alesia and usher in a new age of peace for these people, your distant cousins."

Trissa looked at Akatosh for a moment, then sighed again. "Very well father. I shall help these people against the darkness. What do you need me to do?"

Akatosh smiled slightly. "That will be for you to discover, my child. Good luck, and may I not see you at my side for many more moons again."

And before Trissa could protest that she wouldn't be much help to these people if she didn't know who to fight, the world went dark.

...

Trissa groaned as the memories flooded back in an instant.

 _Thanks so much for the info, dad._ She thought sarcastically. Figuring there was no point in dwelling in her lot further, the Dragonborn began to check over what supplies Father Aedra saw fit to give her.

To her satisfaction, she realized she was wearing her custom set of armor, and that her bow, sword, and daggers had come with her as well, though she only had steel arrows in her quiver. Akatosh had seen fit to grant her, as well, dozen empty soul gems of various sizes ranging from petty to greater, and a coin purse with around a hundred unfamiliar gold coins, plus a few garnets.

Trissa grunted in satisfaction and stood, attaching the coin purse to her belt and the bag of gems to her hip, the dunmer woman set out into the woods in search of her destiny.

Or just a tavern would be nice.

 _ **A/N: Just so you know, this story won't be updated regularly: I'm only going to be working on it sporadically between writing my main story,** Necessary Monsters. **Still, if you've enjoyed this introduction, Follow, Fave, maybe review, and until next time,**_

Imperator senatus et populi Romani Dinosaurs!


	2. Chapter 2

Ch 2

Trissa had walked through the woods for two days, killing and cooking a few rabbits at night to tide over her hunger as she went.

Now, at last, she had reached the edge of the forest, and by either luck or fate a small town was in sight as she exited the darkness of the trees.

Trissa's heart sang at the sight of (relative) civilization, but she tempered her desire to interact with people long enough to do a little reconnaissance.

A stealthy approach got her close enough to see that everyone in the town appeared to be human, and resembled Imperials. Being in a new land with no knowledge as to how Mer would be treated (or, she realized with a start, if they even existed at all), she decided to air on the side of caution and cast an Illusionary spell on herself to lighten her skin tone and turn her eyes a light-brownish color, raising her hood to obscure her pointed ears.

Now suitably disguised, Trissa snuck around to one of the roads leading into the town and casually walked in like a weary traveler would. A few of the village people shot her curious or suspicious looks, but other than that no-one really seemed to care about her.

She listened in on a few of the conversations and found that, thankfully, the people were speaking in slightly accented Imperial, so there wouldn't be a language barrier to overcome.

She directed her attention to the buildings on the main (and only) street that ran through the town, and saw the usual fare: a blacksmith, butcher, tanner, general store, and most importantly, a combined tavern/inn.

Smiling to herself at the welcome sight, Trissa made her way into the sturdy two-story building, colorfully named _The Brass Helm_ on the swinging metal sign that hung above the doorway.

Trissa pushed open the door and was greeted by a familiar sight; tables scattered around a dimly-lit room, bar on one side manned by a heavyset woman with thick, powerful arms, and a hearth on the other, with the pleasant smell of a cooking stew wafting in from beyond her sight.

As dusk was approaching, the room had a decent number of men and women gathered inside, a few turning and glaring suspiciously at the armed stranger who intruded into their tavern. She ignored them and walked to a table towards the back of the room, sitting with her back to the wall so she could see the entrance and most of the room at the same time out of habit.

A few minutes later a young woman with brown hair and a smattering of freckles on her cheeks approached her table. "Hello miss, what can I get you?" She said.

Trissa smiled at her, making sure to angle her head so that her upper face was shrouded in the shadow of her hood. "You have any ale?"

"Yes, anything else?"

"Alright, a tankard of that and some bread and a bowl of that stew I smell would be great, thank you."

The girl looked a little surprised at how civil this stranger was being, and gave a small smile. "I'll get that to you as soon as I can, miss." She said, before hurrying off to another table.

Trissa took the opportunity to examine her fellow patrons. At first glance, they seemed no different from the average rural citizen you could find anywhere in Tamriel. However there was a nagging worry in the back of her head that she couldn't quite place, and it took a few minutes before she realized what it was.

Of all the people in the tavern, there was one demographic noticeably missing; younger men. The youngest man in this room looked like he had seen a good forty winters, and most were older still. A lack of young people (especially men), in her experience, usually meant one thing.

There was a war going on somewhere, and the young of this town had been carted off to fight in it.

This wasn't a particularly shocking revelation, considering Trissa's purpose here, but it did tell her that the conflict she was meant to resolve was likely not to far off, so she was on the right track.

At that point the serving girl returned with a steaming bowl of soup, a crust of bread, and a wooden tankard of ale. Trissa's eyes widened at the sight, and she eagerly took the offered food.

"Ah, thank you lass. It's nice to have some proper food after a few days traveling." She nodded her thanks, and the girl smiled back before heading off to serve the other patrons.

Trissa tucked into the meal heartily, quickly finishing of the simple but heart stew and mopping up the juice with her bread. Then she sat back with her ale and just watched, listening to the conversations filtering through the air around her while more people filtered in as night fell; discussions about crops, missing animals, minor mishaps and, occasionally, the teasing whispers of a distant conflict, annoyingly vague in their telling and often to soft for her to hear.

Trissa soaked in the talk, occasionally conversing with a few of the not-quite-crazy dragons that resided in her skull on the information she had picked up. Her tankard had been refiled a few times by the young server, and now dark had well and truly fallen. She was one of the last people still here, and Trissa decided it would be best to stay the night in this town. But first, she would try and get a bit more information on this land.

She waved to the serving girl, who came over quickly. She reached for the once again empty cup, but Trissa waved her off. "Miss I...it just occured to me that I never asked your name."

The girl looked a little surprised at the strange woman's sudden shift in tone, but replied. "Oh, it's Mellody, ma'am."

"Right, sorry Mellody. Now, this is going to sound somewhat strange, is there a war going on somewhere right now?"

Mellody looked at her with a combination of confusion and shock. "Um, yeah...the Empire's fighting the Varden and Surda down south. That's where all the younger men went off to. How don't you know about this?"

Trissa was prepared for that question. "I've been living deep in the forest with my family for most of my life, but since my parents passed away a few months ago I decided I'd go out and see what the rest of the world has to offer. I'm...a little out of touch with the current goings-on, and honestly with history in general. Do you think you could help me with catching up?"

Mellody glanced back at the bar, where the larger woman was wiping down the smooth, shiney counter with a rag. "I really should help Bella clean up…" She said hesitantly.

With a deft flick of the wrist Trissa pulled one of the small garnets out of her coin purse and dropped it onto the table with a small _ting_. "I can make it worth your time, both for you and the lovely barkeep." She said, flipping another, identically cut garnet onto the table beside the first.

Mellody's eyes widened into saucers, having never seen a gem like this in the poor town she had inhabited her whole life. "Um...Ok!" She said, sitting down with her eyes still on the garnets. She pulled her gaze away and looked into the sparkling eyes of this bizarre stranger, shining from the shadows of her hood. "What do you want to know about, exactly?"

Trissa grinned, and for a moment Mellody swore her eyes flashed blood-red. "Everything."

…

Trissa awoke to the sound of a crowing rooster, sitting up and blinking as she took in the unfamiliar room she was in, sunlight streaming through an open window onto the plain wood floor and simple bed upon which she lay.

Her heart jumped for a moment before she remembered where she was. She felt a pang as the loss of her family, her friends, her _world_ finally hit her after three days here, but she took some comfort in knowing that she would see them again someday at her Father's side.

Well, she may have to take a detour to Sovngarde to see some of them, but still.

Her head ached somewhat from the ale she had consumed last night, but she had dealt with far worse. Trissa stood and stretched out, working out the kinks where she had slept wrong on her armor.

 _That reminds me, gotta buy more clothes today too._

Last night, she had spent a good hour listening to Mellody talk of what she new of the land of Alagaesia; of the Empire, of it's tyrant king Galbatorix with his great black drake and magics, of the Varden and the kingdom of Surda, who fought in the south against the dark king, of the whispers of Elves coming out of their home in the northern woods, and of the tales of the empire's defeat on the Burning Plains at the hands of the upstart rebels.

After this tellin, she had thanked the girl, gave her the gem, and then done the same with the innkeeper, Bella, whom she had also rented this room from. Then, alone in the dark, she had formulated a plan.

It was obvious to her that this Galbatorix was the darkness she was meant to fight, and if she was smart, and planned long enough, she could probably break into his castle by herself and attack him. But she did not know what strange powers this man might wield, and so such a plan was not a sure thing and could just as easily end in failure as success. She figured it would be much easier to fell a king if she had an army behind her.

So, south she was to go, to Surda and the Varden.

 _It's funny,_ she thought, _back home I helped put down a rebellion against an empire, and now I plan to help one. Fate has a sense of humor, I suppose._

She packed up her few belongings and belted on her weapons before walking out of her room and down into the tavern area of the inn. Bella was cleaning up some tables as she came down, and spared her a glance before going back to her work. She had settled the cost of her food and room last night, so without a word the Dovahkiin walked out of the tavern, ready to take on this new world.

 _Now, first thing's first, gotta buy some traveling supplies…_

…

After almost a week of traveling along the dusty, poorly-maintained road that ran through the small village of Oakhollow (as she had learned that little place had been called) and barely seeing a soul, Trissa had finally reached a major, far more populated route.

Stepping off the road a ways back, she again cast the illusion spell and raised the hood on her traveling cloak, shifting the pack she had bought (alongside the cloak and a good deal of provisions) back in Oakhollow to better cover her sword. Better to remain as unnoticeable as possible, she figured.

Trissa moved out onto the well-packed dirt road, continuing on her southward path.

A few hours passed and it was nearing dark when she came to a medium-sized town called Eastcroft, which was surrounded by a wooden palisade that was patrolled by men with spears and bows. Trissa was thankful to have the prospect of an actual bed to sleep in as she hurried inside the walls with the rest of the people trying to get in before the gates closed for the night. The guards at the gate paid her no heed as the dunmer woman lowered her head as she passed, their tired eyes scanning the crowd without really perceiving much.

She quickly made her way through the town and found the local wayfarer's house with the help of some directions from a local. She made her way into a larger room with a low ceiling and stained support beams, lit by the flickering flames of tallow candles and a roaring fire, over which a pig was roasting. In the corner a few musicians were playing an unfamiliar, but not unpleasant song. The room was uncomfortably full, stuffed with around sixty people, and obnoxiously loud. However she spotted an empty table along the far wall and expertly slid through the crowd to reach it, taking up a similar position as she had in Oakhollow.

Settling in, she began to examine the room in earnest.

There seemed to be two main groups here: locals who had come by for a drink, who wore relatively nice clothing and laughed with the familiarity of regulars. The second group seemed to be refugees, likely fleeing the conflict further south. They wore tattered and dirty cloths and huddled close together in small groups, suspiciously eyeing anyone who approached.

There was also another group that stood out from the crowd around them, a half-dozen men in crimson tunics with short swords belted at their hips; soldiers, she guessed of the Empire she was currently in. They were ill-mannered as well, loud and rude, grabbing at any serving-wench unfortunate enough to wander past. She sneered from the depths of her hood at the pathetic display.

 _The Legion would never have permitted its soldiers to behave such; well, at least Tullius wouldn't_ , she thought. _If this is the kind of discipline that this Empire maintains among its troops, this should be an easy victory._

A serving woman came over then, and Trissa requested food and drink, as well as inquiring about a room before turning her attention back to the crowd. She scanned the mass of humans again, but this time her eyes caught upon a man who looked...different from the rest.

He was young, maybe in his twentieth year or so, and had shaggy dirty blonde hair. He wore clothes dirty from long travel, and carried himself like a warrior, an analysis supported by his lean but strong-looking build. However, it was his face that caught her attention.

His features were more angular than the average person's, almost elegant in it's structure, and his eyes had a faint almond-shape to them. Now individually, these were not unheard of characteristics of humans, but put together they just _screamed_ Mer at Trissa, and she noticed a band of cloth tied around the boy's head covering the tips of his ears. _Likely to hide the points,_ she thought. However, his features were not pronounced enough for a full-blooded elf. _A halfling, then? Not common in Tamriel, but not unheard of either. Of course, I have no idea what relations between men and mer are like here..._

She watched him make his way over to the bar, eyes scanning the room and pointedly avoiding looking at the soldiers gathered at one table. He talked to the serving woman briefly, then went back to looking around the room. His eyes widened as she caught sight of something, and she followed his gaze to a table set near the wall, where a cloaked woman with similar angular features to the boy but lacking the almond-eyes and with visible, rounded ears was being bothered by a group of four locals who seemed to have gotten too far into their drinks. The boy quickly made his way over to the table and said something, causing the largest of the group of four to get aggressive, getting right up in the boy's face.

Trissa was instantly alert, drawing one of her daggers and readied an Ice Spike spell under the table to help the young man if things escalated, but thankfully the boy was able to talk the group down and the drunk men wandered off. The dark elf sighed with relief and watched the two semi-mer talk quietly. For a moment she considered approaching them, but then the pair stood and made for the stairs leading to the upstairs rooms.

She chuckled, an amused grin on her face as she jumped too conclusions. _Boy must've impressed her with getting rid of those lugs. Well, have fun you two._

Almost as if she sensed Trissa thinking about her, the woman paused at the foot of the stairs and looked back, directly at the corner where Trissa was resting. The two locked eyes, and the woman's narrowed. As nonchalantly as possible, the Trissa drifted her gaze away. After a moment more, the other woman continued up the stairs.

Trissa shook her head. _Well, that was interesting._ She thought, and then the couple was pushed from her mind as she saw a serving wench approaching, tankard in one hand and plate of food in the other.

…

Trissa started out early the next morning, leaving town almost as soon as the gates opened, ignoring the slightly suspicious looks she got from the guard at the gate. She walked until the town was out of sight behind her then let out a contented sigh as she dropped the illusion spell, letting the cool morning air blow across her skin unencumbered by the faint buzz that accompanied the use of that spell.

Trissa stretched her arms above her head and paused when another thought crossed her mind. _I haven't tried to shout yet in this world._ She realized. Then she grinned. _Well, no time like the present._

She took in a deep breath of air, calming herself a moment, then _spoke_ in the language of her soul.

 _Tiid...Klo Ul!_

As the words left her lips, the very world around her began to shift as her voice bent the fabric of reality to slow the passage of time to a crawl. Trissa grinned wider as the power of the _Thu'um_ coursed through her, and she let out a joyous cry to the sluggish heavens as she began to run, wanting to make use of this brief slowing of everything but her to get some ground covered, sprinting as fast as she could and covering hundreds of meters in the course of ten seconds, her elven speed helping her along. When the spell finally faded, she was far, far beyond Eastcroft, having covered almost a mile in the space of a few seconds.

 _Well, that was fun_ the dragonborn thought, and she continued to run down the southbound road.

…

The rest of the day and through the night Trissa kept moving at a constant pace, stopping only for an hour or so to rest her legs and eat some of her provisions. She was pushing herself hard, but the stop at Eastcroft revitalized her energy, and the occasional use of the Slow Time shout saw her eat up the miles as she traveled down the road. She hadn't seen many travelers on the road, but that was of little matter to her. She was content to observe the wilderness around her, and if she really had to she could talk to one of the dragons.

It was around mid-afternoon the day after she had left Eastcroft, and Trissa was just considering stopping again, maybe for a little longer than before when she rounded a hill and saw, not to far ahead, a pair of travelers on foot who seemed to be surrounded by a group of mounted imperial soldiers; fifteen of them, most with simple armor and weapons, and one with the more ornate equipment of a commander.

Trissa frowned, not liking the way this looked. She slowed down to a walk, and considered her options. She couldn't shout yet, her soul was still recovering from her use of Slow Time a few minutes ago and it would be at least another two or three minutes before she could harness the _Thu'um_ again. Magic was out too, as she wasn't entirely confident that she wouldn't hit those travelers if she started launching firebolts at the soldiers.

So she figured she'd deal with this situation the old fashion way, drawing her dragonbone bow Frostshard from her back and knocking an arrow, feeling a chill around her hands as the enchantment on the weapon prepared to activate.

As she got closer, she saw that the two people who were surrounded were in fact the young man and woman she had noticed back at the tavern. This confused her: she hadn't seen the pair leave town, and yet here they were, ahead of her. How did that happen?

As she got closer, she saw one of the soldiers prod the young man's pack with the butt of his spear, sending him sprawling. This seemed to send the officer to ranting, and she could see his massive mustache quivering even from here.

Then another soldier smashed the dull end of his spear against the back of the fallen boy's head, and Trissa decided she had seen enough. In a well-practiced movement, she raised her bow, drew, and loosed the shaft at the man who had struck the fallen boy. She had already drawn and nocked another arrow when the first one hit, the arrow impacting the man's back and pitching him from his horse with a cry and a burst of cold as the frost enchantment froze his flesh.

The other soldiers let out shouts of surprise, the officer yelling in anger as he wheeled towards the sudden threat. He spurred his horse to a gallop and three of his men followed close behind. However the others were forestalled as the pair they had been harassing burst into motion.

The boy shouted something in a language she didn't recognize and one of the men fell from his horse grabbing at his bleeding throat. The woman shouted as well, and the horses around them went beserk, bucking in fear and tossing their riders before bolting. The pair moved with incredible speed at the fallen men, the soldiers barely able to reach their feet before the boy smashed one of them off his feet, his fist striking like a warhammer.

Trissa noticed this in her peripheral vision, as she was focused on the quartet of horses bearing down on her. She backed away steadily, knocking and firing another arrow at the leftmost rider. The arrow struck him in the shoulder and he fell with a cry from his horse, the force of the arrow spinning him off his mount: he wasn't dead, but he was certainly out of the fight.

By now the Officer was almost upon her as she drew another arrow. She ducked to the side as she swung his blade, the weapon whistling past her ear as he rode by, cursing. She loosed the arrow, not at him, but at the horse of one of his men, the shaft sinking into the animal's chest with a thump and dropping the creature dead in an instant as the frost enchantment stopped its heart.

The last man stabbed at her with his spear, but she deflected the weapon with the sturdy body of her bow before, with a deft movement, catching the weapon between the bowstring and upper arm and yanking, dragging the man from his mount with a startled yelp. Not missing a beat, she ripped out her dragonbone dagger Flametongue with her off hand and drove the blade into his throat, the enchantment placed upon it causing the flesh around the wound to burn and catch fire.

Hearing the thunder of hoofbeats behind her, Trissa tossed her bow to the side and grabbed the fallen man's spear, spinning away from his body as the officer again rode past, and again missed with his strike. As she came out of the spin she stabbed with the spear, catching the horse's flank and causing it to scream and stumble, the mustached officer cursing as he tossed himself from the saddle to avoid being trapped as the horse fell.

Trissa dropped her spear and drew her other dagger, a blade of Daedric make named Soulblaze, taking up a fighting stance as the officer clambered to his feet, the man whose horse she had slain moving to stand with his commander, a shortsword having replaced his spear. She heard cries of pain and fear behind her, but Trissa's eyes never wavered from her foes.

"I don't know who the hell you are, bitch, but I'm going to slaughter you for this." The officer growled, his saber twitching as he looked at her with undisguised rage in his eyes.

"Bigger things than you have tried." She said with a grin, her face still shrouded in the darkness of her hood.

With a cry, the two man charged, the officer heading right for her, his soldier flanking around to her left. The officer swung his saber at her shoulder, but Trissa deftly deflected the attack with Soulblaze, flowing around the strike to intercept the downwards chop of the other man with her crossed blades before kicking him in the stomach.

The soldier let out a grunt of pain and backed off slightly, leaving the sword trapped on the serrated edge of her daedric dagger as she struck like a snake with her other blade, stabbing him in the gut before shoving him away, barely turning in time to fend off another strike from the officer.

The man snarled and struck again, slashing at her head with a vicious backhand. Trissa anticipated the move, however, and ducked the blow, slashing the muscle of the man's arm, causing him to drop his sword from powerless fingers. She followed up with a stab in the side, driving the blade to the hilt into the officer's body.

He coughed, blood spilling from his mouth, indicating his lung had been punctured. But even as the life faded from his body, Trissa could almost _feel_ the hatred emanating from this man.

"Damn you, witch!" He croaked, splattering drops of blood on her face.

She smiled savagely back at him, allowing the Illusion spell to break for a moment, revealing her ash-grey skin and red eyes as she whispered beck, "Not witch, _Dragon_."

Then she twisted the knife in his side and ripped it out, letting the corpse hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Trissa reclaimed her bow, taking a moment to slit the throat of the man she stabbed in the gut. She turned to the other portion of the fight to see the young man chase down a crying, pleading soldier and snap his neck with barely an effort.

Trissa began to jog towards the two travelers, stopping to grab her arrows from the corpses of the fallen and execute the man she hit in the shoulder.

In a few moments, she stood before the two travellers, who were eyeing her warily, the woman with a stolen sword held comfortably in her hand.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Trissa decided to start the conversation.

"Well, you're welcome for the help there, travelers." She said cheerily as she wiped an arrow off on a scrap of tunic. "Though you seem more than able to handle yourself in a fight. Say...you wouldn't happen to be heading to Surda, would you?"

 **A/N: Ah, the protagonists meet. Always an interesting part of any crossover.**

 **Thanks to those who have shown interest in this story, after this chapter updates should be fairly irregular, as I mentioned before. So if you liked it, Follow, Fave, review, and until next time**

Imperator senatus et populi Romani Dinosaurs!


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:**_ _Sorry in advance to anyone who actually knows the Dragon Language._

Ch 3

There was a distinct moment of perfect silence as Eragon slew the last, fleeing imperial soldier with a snap of the neck. For Arya, the moment stretched for minutes, as she took in the broken bodies of the men around her, and the shrouded stranger that stood over her own victims a short distance away.

She shifted her grip on the poorly-made imperial sword in her hand as she watched the stranger approach, Eragon coming to stand beside her as she came up.

The woman wiped the blood from her daggers, one made from yellowish bone and the other a brutal, serrated thing made of dark metal that had a strange red line of a what looked like glass along the spine of the blade, before sheathing them on her hips. She then drew an arrow from her quiver and began to wipe off the head with a scrap of red fabric, regarding the two of them.

The silence strung on for a moment, and the woman took it upon herself to speak.

"Well, you're welcome for the help there, travelers." She said in a surprisingly cheery voice. "Though you seem more than able to handle yourself in a fight. Say...you wouldn't happen to be heading to Surda, would you?"

Eragon started slightly in surprise at her question, and Arya immediately tried to get a good look at her face within the shadows of her hood with her superior Elven vision, but strangely could only make out a faint outline and a pair of gleaming green eyes that seemed annoyingly familiar.

"Why do you ask?" Eragon said, shifting slightly into a defensive stance.

"Well, you two seem to be good enough fighters considering you took down all these soldiers unarmed, and something in your pack set off that officer, which I'm willing to bet is armor. Combine that with the fact you seem to be travelling in the same direction as me, and I'm heading to Surda to join up with the Varden, it seemed like a reasonable guess." She said, placing her arrow back in its quiver and crossing her arms.

Arya blinked. She was surprised that the woman would so readily admit she was traveling to join the rebellion to a pair of total strangers, and that she had reached her (rather accurate) analysis of their plans after only a few moments of observing them.

She looked at Eragon and felt his familiar touch on the barriers of her mind. She lowered her defences slightly and 'heard' his voice in her head.

" _What do you think? She_ did _risk herself to help a pair of strangers. and seems a capable enough fighter. The Varden can always use more soldiers."_

" _She'll slow us down considerably, Eragon."_

" _It's that or leave her behind, and who knows if she'll be able to reach the Varden by herself."_

" _...very well."_

Arya looked back to the woman, who in turn was regarding them strangely as she watched them stare silently at each other for a few seconds. "So...am I right?" She asked.

"Yes, we are heading south to meet up with the Varden like yourself. If you'd like, we could travel together." Eragon said, smiling at the woman.

She smiled back. "That would be lovely. It'll be nice to have travelling companions again. Though this is one more than I'm used to." She chuckled, then noticed their confused expressions and trailed off. "Nevermind, inside joke. Anyway, introductions are a tad overdue. Trissa Blackfire." She said, holding out a gloved hand.

Eragon took it and shook. "Garrow Bromson." He said, using the false name he'd developed while traveling the roads of the empire.

Trissa turned to Arya expectantly. "Felecia." She said simply, drawing up a meaningless name she'd heard somewhere.

Trissa nodded, then started off down the road without a further word. "Well, we've a ways to go still. Let's get started, shall we?"

Eragon looked at Arya with a cocked brow, then shrugged and followed after.

"I'll be along in a moment." Arya called out, rolling her eyes at Eragon's lack of foresight in regards to the wounds of the fallen soldiers, before going about her gristly work quickly.

…

It was latter in the evening, the sun just barely visible on the horizon when the trio stopped to make camp. They had gotten considerably farther than Eragon and Arya had thought they would, this woman able to keep up a steady, relatively rapid pace for most of the day that ate up the miles in short fashion. Though still not as much as the two would have been able to cover on their own, it was better than they had been expecting.

In short order they had set up a small campfire a ways off the road in a small clearing within a copse of trees. Trissa unslung her bow and wandered off into the surrounding woods, only to come back with a brace of rabbits in hand, that Eragon took and began to cook, much to Arya's hidden surprise.

Soon enough Trissa and Eragon were digging into the meat, Arya abstaining from the flesh and gaining a few odd looks from Trissa.

After the small meal, Trissa removed her pack and other gear, and the two Alagaesians finally got a chance to examine their new companion.

Her face was still hidden in the shadows of her hood, but now they saw that her hood was not in fact a part of her cloak, but her armor itself.

The main part of the armor was hardened black leather; boots, pants, gauntlets, and a top with the attached hood. Overtop of this was what made the armor rather unique.

On the shoulders, chest, back and hips, the leather was covered in overlapping, rough scales from some unknown beast secured with metal, adding notable protection to her vital areas while also leaving her limbs able to move freely.

In addition to the bow, which was made of bleached bone of some kind, Trissa also removed a sheathed, slightly curved sword from her back alongside her pack and quiver.

In the back of her mind, something began to nag at her, but she ignored it

The strange woman checked over her equipment, inspecting her arrows for damage and taking inventory of what supplies she had left. She then gathered her things and moved to sit against a tree a short distance from the fire, the darkness of the evening seeming to close in around her.

Eragon eventually spoke. "So, Trissa, where do you come from? I've never seen weapons and armor quite like yours before."

 _Extremely blunt, but hopefully his lack of finess will cause her to drop her guard somewhat._ Arya thought.

Trissa chuckled from the depths of her hood. "No, you probably wouldn't have. I don't know you quite well enough to give you my life's story, but I will say that I am a newcomer to this land. My homeland is very, very far away; I highly doubt that you've ever heard of it."

"We are very well traveled." Arya said, leaving the _try us_ unsaid.

"Very well then, I hail from the Imperial province of Morrowind, though for the last...several years I've called the province of Skyrim home. And no, this isn't your empire I speak of. Those names ring any bells?"

Both Eragon and Arya remained silent, mulling over these strange names. Trissa huffed, satisfied by their silence, before shuffling over to her bedroll and laying down. "I'm going to get some sleep. It's been a long day and I get the feeling the foreseeable future is going to involve a lot of running."

Arya, against some of the more 'logical' parts of her brain, found she couldn't help but try and answer a question she'd been pondering all afternoon.

"Trissa, from what kind of beast did you get those scales you use as armor? I've never seen their like before." She asked.

The woman turned her head back to the fire, and for a moment the flickering flames illuminated her amused expression. Then the nagging thought that had been plaguing Arya all day finally clicked into place.

She'd seen this woman before, she realized.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." She said quietly, before turning her head back from Arya and signaling that she was done speaking.

Arya and Eragon sat in silence for a few moments before Arya quietly made her way over to Eragon, sitting beside him and tapping the side of her head to indicate she wanted to talk mentally.

In a moment the human's familiar presence pressed against her mind. _So what do you think of her?_ She asked.

 _She is...strange. And these lands she speaks of...I've never heard of anything like them. You?_

Arya gave a mental headshake. _No._ She paused. _I've seen her before today._

 _What?! When?_

 _At the wayfarer's house back in Eastcroft, she was sitting in a corner of the bar, and I saw her watching us before we went upstairs._

Eragon shifted, directing his attention again to the apparently sleeping woman across the fire. _How did she catch up to us then? We left in the middle of the night and have been going far faster that any human could keep up to._ He looked back at her, slight fear visible in his eyes. _Was she following us? Do you think she knows who we are, or at least who I am?_

 _I have no idea, but I think we need to examine her memories before we can consider traveling any further with her._

Eragon hesitated for a split second, then nodded. _Agreed. Should we both do it?_

 _No, I have more practice at subtle mind-infiltration. I'll do it, keep watch over us both._

Eragon nodded, and Arya closed her eyes, extending her mind out beyond herself, probing out until she found the supernova of life that was Trissa.

Tentatively, she probed at the woman's mind, and was surprised to find no walls to protect it. She thought based on Trissa's personality and obvious training and skill that she would at least have some basic barriers to prevent intrusion into her mind.

Nevertheless, she slowly pushed in further, and began to catch flashes of memory and emotion.

Then, with a mental roar, _something_ smashed into her tendril of thought, sending lances of pain through her.

 _Wo volaan het, ko fin junaar do fin Dovakiin?! I am Mirmulnir_ , _eldest of our kind, and I will rip you apart!_ The presence thought, and Arya realized with a start that this was another mind, residing within Trissa's. And she could sense that it was not alone, as more of these anomalies closed in on her position. She beat a hasty retreat, and the strange mind halted at the boundaries of Trissa's roaring angrily after her retreating thoughts.

Arya jerked as she returned fully to her body, Eragon looking at her worriedly. She waved off his concern and rubbed her head, stiffening as she heard Trissa shift, before relaxing as she settled back into sleep, apparently none the wiser as to her attempted incursion.

"Arya, what happened?" He whispered quietly. "Could you not get past her barriers."

She shook her head. "No, she didn't have any mental defenses. But there was...something else inside her mind, another consciousness, that attacked me when I tried to enter her mind, and I sensed more coming before I fled."

Eragon just gaped. "What...you mean she has...other people living in her mind?"

"I don't think those were 'people'." Arya said.

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"We don't have any reason to trust nor distrust her claimed motives, and I don't want to risk trying to take her on out here. We are unarmed, while she is _more than_ armed, and she may have powers we can't identify. Loath as I am to say it, we need to bring her back to the Varden. At least there, we'll be able to arm ourselves, and Saphira and the other elves will be able to help us take her on."

Eragon grunted. "I'd rather not take a potential foe right into the heart of our allies, but I agree. We'll just have to watch each other's backs and hope she is truthful about her intentions."

Arya glanced again at Trissa. "Indeed."

…

The next several days passed in a state of strained cordiality. Garrow and Felicia were polite in their interactions with her, but Trissa got the distinct feeling that they were cautious, or even a little afraid of her. It got a little annoying, but she figured once she got to the Varden they would go their separate ways, them absorbed into the faceless masses of the general soldiery, and her working alongside the leaders of the rebellion to bring a swift and decisive victory, and she'd likely never have to deal with them again.

One night, almost two weeks into their traveling, Trissa awoke for her watch to find her companions not around their campsite. Worried, she whispered out a quick _Laas,_ and was relieved to see the auras of two humanoids not too far away, standing together and gazing up at the stars.

Thinking back to the tavern, she chuckled at what she saw as two young people going off to be alone with each other, and settled down to take her watch.

Then a strange thing happened. Into the firelight a small shape floated, quickly resolving itself into an incredibly detailed miniature ship made of folded grass, drifting on the evening breeze. Trissa had never before seen something like this, and so just sat in bemusement as the little ship floated up before her, hovering in front of her face.

She raised a hand and ran her finger over the hull of the ship, feeling the fibres of the grass, and the slight pulse of magic that held the ship aloft.

She smiled, and gently pushed the small ship upwards, watching as it lazily began to circle her in a gradually widening orbit,as if waiting for something.

 _Bo nau hin wudrun, mal gein. Kos pruzah._ She said, allowing the power of the Thu'um to bleed into her words and giving the ship a push, sending it soaring into the sky.

She watching it quickly fade into the dark, and chuckled, feeling truly, simply happy for the first time since she'd arrived in this world.

…

 _Whelp._ Trissa thought. _There it is._

Almost a month and a half since they had met, the trio finally stood on a small rise in the southern reaches of the empire, overlooking the massive collection of tents and ramshackle buildings that made up the camp of the Varden army.

 _Bigger than anything I saw in the civil war, but about as big as any of the Legion forces I saw in the Second Great War._ Trissa sighed quietly to herself. _If that itself is any indication, this is going to be a tough war._

Garrow, however, was the exact opposite. He let out a joyous cry and punched a fist in the air. "We made it!" He exclaimed, laughing. "Murtagh, Thorn, hundreds of soldiers, Galbatorix's pet magicians, the Ra'zac, none of them could catch us. Ha! How's that for taunting the king?" He looked over at the two women, a broad grin on his face. "That'll tweak his beard when he hears about it." He gloated.

The boy's joy was contagious, and Trissa found herself smiling as she watched him head off towards the camp, turing to see the shadow of a smirk leave Felicia's normally serious face.

The two followed Garrow down the rise and neared the camp. Trissa saw a group of riders approaching, and subconsciously her hands drifted towards her blades.

She relaxed almost instantly, then froze. Her eyes widened, and her ears twitched as they struggled to listen to a noise that was not really there. Felicia turned, a questioning expression on her face. Trissa saw her mouth move, but heard nothing that she said.

For her mind was filled with the song of her soul, a song that she alone had heard in thousands of years, and that meant one thing only.

A dragon was near.

She heard a roar reverberate across the plain, and her gaze shot to the heavens, alighting instantly upon the blue form that dove from the clouds far above, wings tucked tight against its body as it dove towards them.

She'd seen dragons do that before, usually before they either smashed through a building or lit a whole street up like a torch.

Thirty years of experience fighting dragons sprung into action, and Trissa ripped _Frostshard_ from her back, an arrow drawn and knocked in an instant, judging speed and direction as she raised the weapon, Dragonrend waiting on her lips for when the creature came into range. The dragon roared again, and blue tinged flame erupted from its throat, washing back across its body as it descended towards them.

 _Well, that's an interesting color for dragonfire. No matter._ She thought. Trissa drew, and just as she was about to release, a hand grabbed her arm and yanked, sending the arrow flying off to the side, away from anything and into the surrounding field.

She wheeled on the perpetrator, anger radiating from her as she glared daggers at Felecia. The woman tried to say something, still holding onto her arm, but Trissa didn't care. She shook the woman off violently and turned again in time to see the dragon land, its massive wings flaring as it landed with an earth-shaking _Thump_ on its hind legs, before settling down onto its forelimbs.

 _Well, at least it's on the ground._ Trissa thought, striding towards her prey, soul aching with hunger as it sensed prey so close. _Damn, it's been awhile since I last had a Dragon soul._ She thought, the need pulling her towards the grounded drake. Trissa's hand closed around the hilt of the sword on her back, and she began to draw the bade…

 _Wait, forelimbs?_

Trissa snapped back from her hungry trance and actually looked at the dragon before her.

It was of decent size, around the size of a blood dragon, with brilliant deep blue scales on its back and plates of a lighter blue on the belly. Unlike most Tamrielic dragons, this creature was rather streamlined, with only a single line of spines running along its spine, from the base of the skull to the end of it's tail and smooth scales that glittered like gems in the sunlight.

Then there were the legs. Unlike literally every dragon she had ever seen before, this drake's wings didn't also function as front legs when land bound. This dragon had a pair of normal legs emerging from the shoulder joints, while its wings were set slightly further back and held up and tucked against its body.

That alone was shocking to Trissa, but it was the fact that Garrow had run up to the dragon and was currently huggin its chest that really flabbergasted her. And the fact that the dragon seemed to be _purring_ in response to the contact, as opposed to enraged or, at best, very confused.

Trissa shook her head to try and clear her tumultuous thoughts that were bouncing around her head, and then noticed the ring of horsemen that surrounded her, and the fact that Felicia had put herself between her and the dragon, body language showing she was ready to leap into action in a moment, and her eyes hard as they searched Trissa's face.

The dunmer woman realized her hand was still around the hilt of her sword, and she slowly lowered it, seeing the soldiers and Felecia relax somewhat.

She turned her attention back to the boy and the dragon in time to see him climb its forelimb and settle into...was that a _saddle?!..._ set between the drake's shoulders. She saw muscles tense as the drake prepared to take flight, and wanted to identify herself to this apparently allied dragon before it flew off with its passenger.

"Drem Yol Lok, Dovah!" She called out loudly, using the ancient greeting of two sons of Akatosh who didn't know each other.

The dragon's head snaked around, and it cocked its head at her in either confusion or curiosity before it shook its head, snorted, and took to the air.

Trissa was shocked, and also somewhat angry. The dragon had blatantly ignored her greeting, an insult that only the most arrogant of Tamrielian drakes would commit.

"Trissa, you need to come with me."

Felicia's commanding tone broke through the growing haze of confusion and frustration. She focused again on the woman, and saw that she had mounted a horse that had been brought for her by another soldier.

"The leader of the Varden wants to have words with you. Please come peacefully, I'd rather not cause a commotion." She said, before sending her steed into a walk towards the camp.

Trissa followed, the song growing quieter and her hunger receding as the dragon got farther and farther away. Tissa looked again at her traveling companion, and saw that she had now taken on and air and posture she'd only seen on a few people, namely Elisif the Fair and Jarl Balgruuf.

It was the look of a ruler.

Trissa realized that, perhaps her companions hadn't been as simple as she'd thought. And she got a sinking feeling she'd be seeing a lot of them in the future.

 _Oh by the Nine, what have I gotten myself into?_ She thought as she was led into the camp of her hopeful allies like a criminal.

 ** _A/N:_** _Hm, I'm writing more of this story than I thought I would, and the story itself is attracting far more attention than I expected. Well, more for you all I suppose. Also, Happy new year._

 _Just for reference, I imagined Trissa's armor as a combination of Black-leather Thieves Guild armor with some supplemental_ _protection in the form of a less-spiky dragon scale chestpiece. And to clear something up, both of Trissa's daggers have a flame damage enchantment._

 _Well, thanks for reading, Follow and fave if you're new, review if you aren't, and until next time,_

Fah Bormahu ahrk fin Dovahkiin, Fonaar!


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:**_ Should have said this sooner, but I own neither Inheritance Cycle or Elder scrolls. If I did, this story would already be in production for a Youtube animated series or a video game. And I would have had the Eragon movie redone and all the old copies tracked down and burned.

Ch 4

In spite of the many differences that could be seen between the land of Alagaesia and the world of Nirn, there were still parallels and similarities that one could find. The existence of men, dragons and elves, the strange value placed upon gold, a mild fear of magic by the general population…

And of course, the chaos of war-camps.

It took a few minutes for Trissa and her guard of mounted warriors to reach the camp, where Garrow and the dragon rejoined them, leading the small procession into the massive collection of tents and people.

Soon, masses of humans (she still had yet to see a fellow Mer in this land) began to gather around the convoy, many of them soldiers, but also civilians, cheering at the sight of the dragon and its rider and occasionally shooting questioning looks at the cloaked figure being escorted by the riders.

Trissa instinctively dipped her head, allowing the shadows of her enchanted hood to envelop her face as she examined the crowd.

The group then stopped, and Felecia spurred her horse ahead. Trissa looked past her escort and saw the reason for their pause.

Standing before the dragon was a dozen individuals. Each of them were tall, with lithe limbs and elegant features, their eyes slanted and their ears pointed.

At least, she had found some elves.

Eleven of the elves looked normal, their body structure and skin tone like a mixture of Bosmer and Altmer. There was a mix of men and women, and they wore loose, comfortable clothing with minimal armor, and carried a mixture of swords, daggers, and bows. However, their body language and expressions gave her the feeling that they looked down on all of the humans surrounding them, and would much rather not be around such pitiful creatures.

They reminded her of Thalmor. And she hated the Thalmor, even after all this time.

However, the last elf confused her greatly. His body was shaped like the other elves, but was covered in a thin layer of shiny blue-grey fur, and she could see that his eyes were golden with a slit pupil, like those of an Eagle. When he spoke (in a language she couldn't recognize), making a strange hand movement at the boy on the dragon in synchronization with the other elves, she saw that he also had fangs, like those of a wolf.

 _Maybe a worshiper of Hircine?_ She thought. _Cursed/blessed to live in the midst of a flesh-change for all his life? If so, these people are far more forgiving of Daedra worship than Nirn. That could be an issue._

The boy made similar hand movements from the back of the dragon, replying in the same unknown language, and the elves took up positions around the dragon, moving like guards around a king.

This just reinforced the boy's significance in Trissa's mind, as he must be rather important to warrant a guard of the only other full-elves she'd seen in this land.

They moved a little way further when the boy called for a stop, hoping off the dragon and approaching a group of people, foremost among them a young woman and a bearded man who held each other with obvious love. He talked at length with members of the group, then embraced the couple, and the three spoke quietly for a moment. Whatever the boy said caused looks of concern to flash across the couple's faces, but he apparently didn't notice as he then gave them each a kiss on the brow and leapt back to the saddle, and the little column moved on.

They pushed further into the camp, and eventually came to an open area surrounding a crimson tent that stood out from the rest like a drop of blood in a bucket of milk. Standing before the tent was a woman with the darkened color of a redguard, as well as a scholarly man in expensive robes with a crown atop his head; a king of some kind. The two were flanked by six soldiers in impressive armor: two humans with swords and shields, two very small men in heavy armor with battle axes (appropriately sized for their diminutive statures) and two creatures that looked like grey-skinned, tuskless orks with a set of rams' horns curling from their foreheads that grasped heavy mauls in meaty fists.

The woman, whom Trissa assumed to be the leader of this army, looked shockingly young. She wore a beautiful green dress that let her arms bare, displaying the slightly stained bandages that wrapped her forearms. Trissa felt a bulb of respect grow for this woman: not many leaders would be so willing to openly display a sign of potential weakness such as an injury, _especially_ women. Elseif might have if it would be beneficial politically, and Ayela wore her scars with a hunter's pride, but even back in skyrim many women feared anything that might mar their appearance.

This woman bore hers like a badge of honor.

The boy nimbly clambered down from the dragon and went to stand beside the woman, as did Felicia (though she suspected now that these weren't their real names). The dark-skinned woman then raised her hands to silence the mass of soldiers and civilians who had gathered around.

In a loud but regal voice, the woman welcomed Rider Eragon _(ah, so that's his real name. But...what does_ Rider _mean?)_ back from his successful mission and played up the crowd's emotions until they were roaring and cheering in approval.

Trissa felt her vague approval of this woman grow. The warriors and civilians of the Varden seemed to like her, and she knew from experience that it was far harder to stop a rebellion when every enemy soldier felt they were fighting, if not for a friend, than for a righteous and just man. Or woman, in this case.

The unknown king spoke then, and his speech (though politely accepted) was not received with the same fervor as the woman's.

Then the dark-skinned woman turned and said something to Eragon, and the boy went pale.

Trissa realized that this boy's role in the war was likely the same as hers had been in both the Stormcloak rebellion and the Second Great War; a figurehead with a big, scary power behind them to bolster moral and frighten the enemy (as well as slaughter scores of them). The boy with the dragon, and her with the Voice.

And later, a couple dragons of her own.

Eragon visibly gulped as he looked out over the mass of humans, then nervously stammered out something about how he was glad to be back and how he and Saphira would…

 _Hold on...the dragon's name is Saphira? That's a very...feminine name…_

Trissa examined the giant reptile again, noting its body structure, posture, even limited facial expressions, and after a few moments it was like her eyes cleared.

Yep, that dragon was a female.

Trissa started laughing (in a not entirely sane-sounding manner) at the ridiculousness of it; after all the times she'd complained about the distinct lack of fellow females in possession of a Dragon's soul, she ran across one in another dimension after Akatosh raised her from the dead.

 _Sheo_ must _have had a hand in this_ , she thought.

The men and women around her looked nervously at the strange armed woman who seemed to be having a mental breakdown, a few edging away or placing hands on weapons.

Her laughter soon subsided to quiet chuckles and she noticed the elf standing in front of her, giving Trissa a very unimpressed look.

"If you are finished, you are wanted in by the Lady Nasuada." The elven woman said with a tone of condescension that would make even the snootiest Thalmor Justicar jealous.

Trissa ignored the bubble of irritation that appeared when the elf spoke, but simply gestured for her to lead the way.

Die turned gracefully and strode back through the crowd, his presence clearing a path through the throngs of humans as they seemed eager to get out of her way.

This unnerved Trissa to a degree, but she was glad that it got her to the tent quickly.

Ten of the mer had taken up positions around the tent, their strange aura keeping the slowly dispersing masses at a good distance from the dwelling of the Varden's commander. She saw that Saphira had moved off to one side of the tent and inserted her head through a flap that looked to be designed specifically for that purpose.

 _Good, at least these people know that Dragons are far more than mere beasts, like some of the idiots in Cyrodiil._

The native elf pushed through the front flaps of the tent and Trissa followed, only to be greeted by one of the most hated creatures both in this realm and the her own.

Nobles.

Eragon seemed to be swarmed by the pompous individuals, who fawned and preened in an attempt to gain some favor or hold on the young man, who she could tell was just as annoyed by it as she had been when she was presented to the Emperor's court by General Tullius.

Thankfully, it seemed that she wouldn't have to take part in the scrum, as the elf gestured for her to move off to one corner of the tent, which Trissa happily did. She leaned up against a sturdy wooden support pole and watched with great amusement while Eragon tried to keep his calm while he suffered the inane, vacuous nobles clawing for attention.

Eventually Saphira apparently grew tired of the seemingly endless stream of overdressed fools holding things up as she let out a deep growl that sent the nobles scattering from the tent and eliciting a chuckle from both her and the dark-skinned woman.

As the last of the nobles scuttled from the tent, Trissa decided that this would be the opportune moment to introduce herself to the leaders of this little rebellion. She straightened and walked to the center of the tent, standing before the dark-skinned woman seated on a simple wooden throne.

She paused, running her eyes over the assembled individuals. There was the woman and the king (who was examining her with undisguised curiosity). Off to one side was the elf who escorted her in, as well as the furry elf who seemed to lead the group. Eragon had moved to stand beside Saphira, and at the side of Eragon was an elven woman she hadn't seen before, but who looked quite familiar nonetheless. Flanking the woman was the six guards from before, all of them glaring at her the same way she'd seen from both the Penitus Oculatus and many Houscarles when she approached their respective charges. Trissa opened her mouth to talk, but one of the guards beat her to it.

"Do you not know any respect, stranger? Or are you so ignorant as to not know to kneel before your betters?" He said, gesturing to the woman on the throne.

Instantly, any thoughts of a polite greeting flew from Trissa's mind as her gaze darted to the human, who had the _arrogance_ to demand that she kneel to someone who's name she didn't even know.

In short: time to heap on the sarcasm.

Trissa leaned back, raising a hand to her chest. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you had summoned the Gods themselves here!" She said with mock shock. She made a show of looked around the tent, as if searching for the deities. "Talos? Mara? Arkay? Have I been graced with your glorious presence?"

She looked back at the guard, speaking in a deadpan tone. "Or is it simply that the people of this land have an over-inflated sense of importance, to demand respect when none in the room have yet done anything to deserve such from a total stranger?"

She saw the guard's face go red with anger, and his hand twitched towards his sword.

"Daren." The stern voice of the woman caused the man to snap to attention again, his anger forgotten behind his discipline. She directed her attention to Trissa then. "You have a point, we have not been introduced. I am Nasuada, the leader of the Varden, and this is King Orin, the ruler of Surda. So, who are you?"

 _Time for the reveal,_ Trissa thought, reaching up to draw back her hood with one hand as she ended the Illusion spell she'd had on herself for almost the entire time she'd been with Eragon and Felecia.

It was unclear why what happened next occurred. Some think it may have been interference from the numerous wards on many of the individuals in the room, while others contest it was because of the excessive length of time Trissa had kept the spell running.

Regardless of the cause, something happened with the illusion spell, causing only a part of it to fail when Trissa ended it. Specifically, the portion which kept her eyes concealed.

As such, when Trissa lowered her hood, the leaders of the Varden were greeted with an elven face with blood-red eyes and pale, ashen skin. Combined with the report Arya had given weeks before about multiple minds residing within Trissa's body (which everyone here had heard of in one way or another), there was really only one conclusion to be jumped to.

"SHADE!" One of the short guards yelled, hefting his axe as the others let out various curses and oaths and drew their own weapons. The elves to her right actually developed a shocked expression before drawing weapons of their own with lightning speed.

 _Shit, what did I do!_ Trissa thought before running through a dozen ways to eliminate these sudden enemies in around a second before deciding on the least-lethal one.

" _ZUN HAAL VIIK!"_ The Thuum ripped from her mouth in a wave of bluish energy, tearing the weapons from the hands of the six guards advancing on her as she ripped her daggers from their sheaths, blocking a sword strike of the female elf that felt more like a hit from a greatsword and stumbling backwards as the animal-elf stabbed at her chest, the strike glancing off her dragonscale chestpiece.

The unexpected strength of the elve's blows caused her to change strategy. Trissa turned her stager into a backwards roll, hurling her daggers at the sword-wielding elf as she came out of the tumble.

Soulblaze bounced off of some kind of invisible barrier, but while the elf deflected Flametongue, but the action bought her the time she needed to draw her sword…

"Blodhgarm, Iolde, stand down!"

Trissa's eyes flicked to the source of the voice, the unnamed elf who bore a striking similarity to Felicia-

Oh, that was Felecia.

The other two elves hesitated for a moment before the furred one reluctantly sheathed his weapon and backed off a bit. However, the woman spoke. "Lady Arya…"

"This woman is _not_ a Shade, Iolde." Arya said forcefully. "Do you think I wouldn't be able to tell if I'd been traveling with one of those... _creatures_ for over a month?"

Iolde shook her head minutely, and sheathed her blade, still regarding Trissa with a suspicious look.

The dragonborn slowly stood from her crouched position, lowering her hand from the hilt of her undrawn blade for the second time in an hour. She looked around at the people in the tent, all of whom were still regarding her with either suspicion or curiosity, save Saphira, whose expression she could not really pick up on.

Trissa calmly walked over to where her daggers had fallen, retrieved and sheathed them, then regarded the assembly again and took a deep breath.

"What the _FUCK_ is wrong with you people?!" She shouted, letting a hint of the Thuum leak through in her anger and feeling a speck of satisfaction as a few people winced at her volume.

"I must apologize. When you lowered your hood you greatly resembled a Shade, and my men jumped to conclusions." Nasuada said

"And what exactly is so dangerous about a 'Shade' as to cause the majority of the people in this tent on launch an unprovoked attack on me?" Trissa said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"They have superhuman strength and speed, powerful magics, and can only be killed by being stabbed in the heart." The furred elf, Blodhgarm said, deadpan. "To date, there are only three people who have survived killing a Shade, one of whom Rider Eragon."

Trissa absorbed this information, then nodded. "Alright, I can understand the reaction then. I'd probably have done the same if a Vampire Lord had suddenly revealed itself in the midst of the Imperial court."

King Orin raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Trissa waved a hand. "Never mind, not important. In any case, I should probably introduce myself before something else happens." She uncrossed her arms and gave a dramatic bow. "I am Trissa Blackfire, and I am here to offer your little revolution my expertise in the arts mystical, martial, and illegal in order to bring a swift end to the reign of this Galbatorix I've heard such poor things about."

"Uh…" Nasuada honestly couldn't think of a way to respond to that, but luckily Eragon provided an interruption.

"I'm sorry, this is rude but...what _are_ you?" The young man asked.

Trissa rolled her eyes. By his point she had lost her 'Shade' look, the spell having completely faded to reveal her ash-grey skin. "I take it you've never seen a Dunmer before, boy?"

"Um, no...what is that word you used? I've never heard that language before"

"Um...it's Elven." Trissa said, somewhat confused. "Roughly translates to 'Dark Elf' in human tongues."

Eragon looked surprised. "Wait, there are other kinds of elves?" he said, looking at Arya.

Her eyes narrowed. "Not as far as I know."

Trissa sighed and looked to the heavens. "Bormah, ofan dovah mul." She looked back down. "So I assume you are the only kinds of elves around here?" She said, gesturing at the three elves in the room.

They nodded, and she sighed again. "Well, this will be interesting." She muttered.

Orin broke in now. "What is that language you're using? It's nothing like anything I've ever heard before, and it seems you can use it for powerful magics. Is it like the ancient language, maybe a variation your people developed after separating from Alagesan elves?"

Trissa raised a hand to that. "Ok, wait, I can understand you not knowing Tamrielic Elven, but how can you not recognize the Dragon tongue and the _Thu'um_ when you have one _sticking her head in the tent?_ "

"Drag...dragon's don't speak, how the hell could they have a language of their own?" One of the guards said.

Trissa gaped at this, and wheeled to the scaly head of the beast that had so far observed this exchange with complete silence.

"Los daar vahzah, Briinah? Dreh hi ni Tinvaak fin Thu'um se un Bormah?" She said.

The dragon cocked her head, and Trissa felt a strange pressure on the edge of her mind. She felt a few dragons rush towards it, but she quickly smashed them back into a corner of her mind with sheer willpower.

Then a voice, rumbling and powerful but with a definite femininity rolled through her mind. _"I know not the words you speak, grey one, but they send shivers to my soul. Where did you learn them?"_ Saphira asked, both curious and cautious as to the strange power of this language, so different from that used by her partner of Heart and Mind.

Trissa blinked a few times, then looked at the others. "I assume you heard that too?"

They all nodded. She pointed at the dragon. "And that was…"

"Saphira, yes. That is how dragon's communicate, through their minds. What do you mean by Dragon Tongue?" Eragon asked, stepping closer to her with a look of confusion and suspicion in his eyes.

Trissa sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose before glaring again at the roof of the tent and the sky beyond. "Fen hi krif zu'u ahst enook meyz, Bormahu?" She said with mixed anger and annoyance.

She turned back to Nasuada. "Look, I understand that a good half of what I've been saying would be little better than gibberish to you people, but I am rather tired from today's events, including fending off your freakishly strong elven friends, so I ask; will you accept my offer to help, or will I have to find a map and figure out where Galbatorix lives all on my own?"

If Nasuada was fazed by her assertion to attack the Mad King alone if turned away, she didn't show it. "The Varden is always happy for more soldiers, but before we can permit you to join one of our wizards will have to examine your mind, just to ensure that you are truly a friend. Otherwise we cannot permit you to leave." She said the last part a bit threateningly, and Trissa rolled her eyes internally at that.

"Considering that's how she talks, I assume that the dragon is capable of examining my thoughts and such?" Trissa asked.

"Yes. Why?" Eragon asked.

"Until I get a chance to explain...a great many things, she is the only being I will permit to see my memories. Is that acceptable?"

Nasuada looked at the glimmering blue dragon, who snorted. " _I can do such."_ Saphira thought/said.

Nasuada nodded and gestured towards Trissa, Eragon and Arya stepping back as Saphira slid her head closer to the Dunmer, Trissa's reflection clear in the dragon's plate-sized eyes.

Again she felt the pressure on the edge of her mind, and again some of the dragons rushed towards it only to be battered back. _Be swift, Briinah, I cannot hold them from you for very long._ She projected to the dragon.

Saphira swiftly went through Trissa's memories working backwards, seeing her travels with Eragon and Arya, her arrival in that small village so long ago, and then Trissa felt the dragon's shock as she came upon the memories of Trissa's brief time in the realm of the Divines, and her talk with Akatosh. She went a little further back, seeing her last few moments in the realm of Mundus, and then jumping back a long ways, arriving at a memory of Trissa battling with a pair of rogue blood-dragons alongside Aela, Vilkas, and her daughter, Feliris.

The dragon, to stunned to even properly form words, projected feeling of confusion and questioning towards her, that she responded to with a mental shake of her head. _I cannot explain now, but please, do not tell anyone of this yet. I'd rather explain the...circumstances of my arrival myself._

She sensed some hesitation, but quickly an affirmative feeling washed through the mental link. _Very well, Dovahkiin..._ Saphira said as she withdrew. Trissa's sight returned, and she saw the dragon shake her head slightly and snort a small puff of smoke from her nose before looking at Nasuada.

" _She is trustworthy."_ Was all she said, but everyone (save the elves) seemed to visibly relax at the declaration.

Nasuada's lips curled into a small smile as she looked at the red-eyed woman before her, mind already ticking through the ways this woman with strange powers could affect both the war effort and the internal politics of the rebellion.

"Well then, Miss Blackfire, I welcome you to the Varden."

...

 ** _A/N_ : Well, here's a bit more for all of you who seem to like this story. Seriously, this story has been up for less than a month and it already has ****almost a third as many Follows and Faves as my largest story,** Necessary Monsters, **despite being a fifth the size of that story. W** **ell, thanks for that everyone. I apreciate it.**

 **This chapter gave me some difficulty, and I still feel a bit iffy on some parts. I'm not the most confident writing established character faithfully, so if you feel I did poorly for someone please let me know. Also let me know if I did good, as I feed primarily on the positive reinforcement of strangers on the internet.**

 **Also, credit to FF.N user** **Snipern0sniping for giving me the idea to have Trissa mistaken for a shade. Thanks for that, sir/madam/other.**

 **That covers just about everything. Thanks for reading; if you're new and like what you saw, please follow and fave. If you aren't, please leave a Review. As always, until the next chapter:**

Fah Bormahu ahrk fin Dovahkiin, Fonaar!


	5. Chapter 5

Ch 5

The flaps of the command tent slid closed as the strange 'elven' woman left, led by a young page to where she could rest. Nasuada's eyes lingered for a second on the entrance before turning to the two elves in the tent. "If you could put a few of your fellows to watching her, it would be much appreciated." She said.

Blodhgarm nodded before striding from the tent swiftly, his female compatriot close behind.

Satisfied, Nasuada directed her attention to Eragon and Arya.

"I haven't had a chance to say so yet, but I am glad the two of you have returned safely." She said.

Eragon nodded in response. "I'm sorry for causing such an issue, but there was something inside Helgrid that needed to be dealt with before I could leave, and we needed to get Katerina out of there."

Nasuada waved away the explanation. "I'm sure whatever it is you needed to do was important, Eragon. Now, I've kept you here long enough. Our guest had a point, it's been a long day. We can go over the events of your travel and catch you up on what has happened while you were away tomorrow; scrying doesn't really beat a face-to-face conversation. Go and get some rest."

Eragon and Arya nodded, the Rider giving a short bow to the leader of the Varden before the pair retreated from the tent.

Eragon turned to his Elven companion, and he could have sworn he saw a flicker of fatigue cross her face before she looked at him, her face composed again.

There was an instant of silence that Eragon broke before it dragged on. "It occurs to me I haven't actually thanked you for coming in search of me. So, thank you, Arya Dröttningu. It would have been a much harder road without you beside me." He said, nodding his head to her.

Eragon lifted his head in time to catch the cocked eyebrow and slight smirk on Arya's face before she chuckled quietly.

"You are welcome." She said simply. "Good evening, Eragon."

"Good evening, Arya." He responded as she turned and headed back towards her tent.

Smiling to himself, Eragon turned back to Saphira to see his partner's neck stretched up, looking out over the camp with a strange look on her scaly face.

Somewhat confused, he reached out towards her with his mind with a questioning _Saphira? What's wrong?_

She was so distracted that he slipped right into her mind and saw through her eyes, tracking the strange woman as she disappeared into the vast gathering of tents.

Saphira snorted and shook her head, gently but forcefully separating their minds to their usual contact, but even through that link he could feel her confusion and apprehension rolling about in her mind.

 _Saphira? What is it?_ He questioned, looking out in the general direction that she was still looking.

The dragon snorted and shook her head, lowering herself down to her usual walking posture and turning to start lumbering back to their tents. _It is nothing._ She said.

 _It is certainly_ something, _Saphira. What did you see in that woman's mind? I've rarely seen you this concerned about something. Is she dangerous?_

Saphira paused, and to his shock, Eragon felt the faintest shred of fear flit through their link, a feeling he hadn't gotten from her since the early weeks after she hatched. _That woman is_ very _dangerous, little one. She is different from anything we have seen before. It...concerns me._

Eragon tried to respond, and question what she meant, but the Dragon interrupted him. _I won't speak more than that. I promised that I would let her explain herself in time._ And then she closed her mind to him, and the conversation was ended.

Eragon was shocked by his partner's behavior, and actually stopped to gape after her. Then his brows furrowed as he suspiciously thought about the newcomer, her stance and expression when he'd looked back at her out in the field; hand on her sword (which he'd never seen her draw) and a predatory expression on her face as she looked at his dragon.

He growled in the back of his throat and hurried after his partner, thinking that he'd need to go find himself a new weapon before tomorrow.

He had some questions for this 'Trissa Blackfire', and he wouldn't be unprepared when he got his answers.

…

"This is it?" Trissa said, looking at her young human guide as he stopped before a plain-looking tent set up around a hundred meters from the central clearing.

"Um...yes, mam. This was the tent Lady Nasuada told me to bring you to." The boy said hesitantly, withering somewhat beneath her crimson gaze.

"Hmmm...well, I've dealt with worse." Trissa said as she ran a hand over the rough canvas, a tad miffed in spite of herself that she was being given such a plain tent.

 _Oh stop it, you child._ She thought. _You've been a bloody hero for too long. Back in Morrowind you would've been ecstatic to have this tent to yourself._

"Thank you for your help, boy." She said, looking down at the small human. She reached into her pouch and extracted three coins, handing them to the surprised child. "Now get going. I'm tired and need some time alone."

"Of course, miss, thank you!" He said, still looking at the coins in his hand as he wandered off into the crowd.

Trissa shook her head and pushed aside the flap of the tent, getting a look inside at her new quarters.

The tent was rather small, only about twelve by twelve feet. In the far corner was a simple cot that was placed against the back 'wall', and at the foot of the bed was a small wooden chest. The only other piece of furniture was a roughly made wooden desk and a chair, and the floor of the tent was covered by a tarp to keep out potential dampness of the earth.

Trissa let out a breath and relaxed her tense muscles, finally feeling secure enough to lower her guard somewhat. She pulled Frostshard off her back and placed the bow against the foot of the bed, swinging off her quiver and pack and placing them on the ground as well. Then she removed her sword and placed it on the bed with a strange care, before unbuckling her daggers and placing them on the desk.

Trissa sat on the straw mattress with a huff, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath in. She held it for a moment, then released the breath, and with it some of her stress and worry, just as Paarthurnax had taught her all those years ago.

She repeated the process a few more times, breathing slowly until she felt once again a peace, and separated from the noise of the masses of people around her. Then she opened her eyes and her soul, looking towards the door of the tent as she called upon the Thu'um.

"Laas...Yah Nir!" She whispered, and for a moment her vision went dark.

Then her sight returned, and she found herself surrounded by light.

All around the walls of her tent, dozens-no, hundreds-of lights shone bright red, illuminating the outlines of every living thing within a very wide radius. Her gaze flickered about, taking in the mass of people; each light a life, each a distinct individual with hopes and fears and aspirations.

And each one was worth defending, up until they showed her otherwise.

After about a half a minute, the lights faded, and Trissa sighed at the (relatively) selfless thoughts that came with her brief meditation. "You've certainly come a long way since that dumb little burglar from Balmora." She said softly to herself, shaking her head.

The dunmer stood, deciding to stow what belongings she had before taking a look around the camp, to try and get a feel on how well or poorly this campaign was going.

She grabbed her pack and went over to the container, pushing the lid open to find that the chest already had some contents.

Trissa's face scrunched with confusion as she reached down to pick up the large burlap sack within the chest. As she lifted it she heard some clattering as something within banged together, and this only stoked her curiosity as to what this bag was doing here.

Moving over to the desk and moving her daggers aside, she slowly opened the sack, letting the contents clatter out.

She stared at the objects on the desk for a few moments, dumbfounded, before a low chuckle forced its way out of her mouth, and growing to a hearty laugh that went on for a good minute. As the laughter subsided, she glanced at the roof of the tent.

"Would it have been that hard to just give me this stuff when I showed up, guys? Or does it amuse you Aedra and Daedra to make me work for my belongings?" She said.

When she was still an active adventurer, Trissa had made use of a great many different weapons, armors, and general trinkets; both enchanted and mundane. Most had eventually passed into the hands of various shopkeepers, helping to build the massive fortune she amassed over the years. If the item was lucky and the Dragonborn had used it for long enough for an attachment to grow, it would find a 'place of honor' in one of her many homes Trissa had in the holds of Skyrim gathering dust, or would be gifted to a friend whom she felt could make better use of it.

However, there were about a dozen items that she eventually settled on as her 'standard equipment', that she found to be the best choices for the way she approached problems. These items included her sword, daggers, and bow, as well as the modified suit of Guildmaster armor.

The items on the table were the rest of that list.

There were two rings; one gold with a sapphire inset that had faint lines of blue magical energy running over it, and the other a silver and garnet piece, that had gull green aura about it. Her Ring of Magicka Regeneration and Ring of Stealth respectively. She slid the two rings onto her left hand, holding her arm out and letting the faint sunlight illuminate the worn and scuffed trinkets that had been in her repertoire for over forty years.

There were also two necklaces, an amulet of Talos that she'd taken from some nameless Stormcloak soldier during the attack on Helgen what felt like an era ago. However despite it's simple acquisition, she'd come to value the Necklace for the soothing ability it seemed to imbue to her soul every time she called upon the Thu'um, allowing her to Shout more often.

The other had a bit more...sentimental value to it. The Amulet of Articulation, gifted to her upon her ascension to the rank of Guildmaster of the Thieves' guild, and imbued with magic causing people to become more suggestible to her speech, and persuasions in particular. She rarely used it nowadays, but it was a reminder of what she considered to be one of her greatest accomplishments (though she knew many of her friends would disagree with that).

She slipped the Amulet of Talos around her neck, feeling the magic's cooling touch upon her _Dovahsil_ , and tucking the other necklace into a pouch on her belt.

There was also a pouch containing another hundred or so gold coins, and a few more petty and lesser soul gems, as well as a single common-level gem.

Her lock picking kit (which was a great relief to have again) also hit the table, as well as a pair of Dwemer devices she'd found in her travels beyond Skyrim; a clockwork hook-launcher she'd used to scale many a tower and wall in the past, and a miniature crossbow-like weapon that fired bolas. Both devices were designed to be mounted on the forearm, and she did just that before turning back to the last object on the table.

Azura's Star, the only Daedric artifact that she had ever kept for herself.

She almost reverently picked up the large soul-gem, and held it before her at arm's length. "Thank you, Lady Azura, for gifting me once again with the use of Your star. I swear I shall use it wisely." She said, and felt the star vibrate slightly. Taking it as Azura's consent to her continued use of the artifact, she put the star back in the bag placed it in the chest, doing the same with her traveling cloak. She made to do so with her bag, but had a thought.

 _Camps like this have a lot of mouths to feed. So, there's likely a whole lot of animals being slaughtered here. A perfect place to fill a few soul gems._

She reached into her pack and pulled out the bag with her small collection of soul gems. She'd filled three of the petty gems with rabbit souls earlier in her journey, and farm foul wouldn't likely yield anything better in her experience, so she removed the three remaining petty gems from the bag, grabbed the three on the table and tucked them all into another pouch before stowing her pack and the rest of the gems in the chest.

Trissa belted on her daggers and case poison rune on the floor before her bed to punish any potential thieves before raising her hood and exiting the tent, looking up into the sky to see the first hints of sunset apearing.

A few people shot glances at this newcomer, but most went about their days without a second look. Not really knowing where to go and not really wanting to talk to anybody, she just started to wander the camp, eventually finding herself in a large open area near the western edge that was being used as a training field.

Curious and wanting to see how the warriors of the Varden stood up against the warriors of Nirn, she approached the edge of the field and leaned up against an empty wagon. She scanned across the various areas of the field, from an archery range with straw targets to a 'dueling' area where soldiers armed with swords, axes, maces and hammers of all shapes and sizes paired off and fought, receiving criticisms and advice from bearded veterans in scuffed armor.

At the far end of the field, she could see formations of spear and pikemen, as well as the odd group of Halberdiers marching and turning to get them as in-synch as possible. Teamwork would be the only defence for these basic soldiers against the more skilled fighters who would attempt to break past their long weapons to hack them to bits in close combat.

She heard some heavy footsteps approaching from her left, and flickered her eyes over to see a very large man, Nordic in appearance and Orkish in build with a good five or six inches on her, approaching her at a casual walk. He wore what appeared to be ox-hide armor (with hairs still attached) and had an overly-large greatsword strapped to his back. Trissa subtly drifted a hand to the hilt of Flametounge as he approached, watching him without turning her head.

However, he stopped a few feet away, examining her with a critical eye. The seconds stretched out, and eventually Trissa grew tired of it.

"Can I help you?" She said with annoyance.

The man flinched in surprise. "Oh, sorry for staring uh...miss. Just interested with your armor. Never seen anything like it; what'd you get those scales from?" The man said, his voice gruff.

Trissa's annoyance lessened somewhat, and she responded neutrally. "As far as I'm aware, it's one of a kind. Something of a family heirloom. As for the scales, I wouldn't suggest you get your hopes up on getting some of your own. The creatures they came from are all but extinct nowadays, and the few that remain don't look quite like this anymore, if they ever did here."

"Shame. This armor's getting a little old; been looking at getting something new, but I don't particularly like metal armor; too restricting, and I need as much mobility as I can get with this thing." He chuckled, patting the hilt of his sword. "Name's Fredric, by the way. I'm the Varden's weapon master."

"Trissa Darkfire. New to to the cause." There was a pause where they watched the mass of men batter each other for a few moments.

Then Trissa voiced a question that had been on the edge of her mind for a while now. "Why aren't there any women out there?" She looked at the larger man and saw his bemused expression.

"Well...I suppose because not many want to fight. War is a hard thing, and men are better suited for it of the sexes. Besides, someone needs to keep things in order while the soldiers are in the field."

Trissa rolled her eyes. "You realize that if even half of the women in this camp took up arms your force would increase by at least a third. And a woman can do just as well in a fight as men; I know from experience. For example, you have me beat in size and likely strength, but I'll be faster and more agile than you, even without that ungainly mass of metal you call a weapon. Plus, I'd hazard to guess in a real fight you might hesitate to strike for a moment if you realized I was a woman."  
Fredric adopted a thoughtful expression, then nodded in agreement. "You're probably right. But we do have some women fighters, and I know quite a few of the mages in the army are female. Womenfolk CAN fight if they want to, it's just most don't seem to want to."

Trissa snorted. "Well, I suppose they have the choice to cower if the want; but that won't stop the sword falling on 'em if you ever lose a battle."

"Then we best not lose, Miss Blackfire."

"Mrs." She corrected.

"Ah, my mistake. Say...would ya be up for a spar? I haven't had a good fight in a while, but I get the feeling you might actually be able to provide a challenge."

Trissa shook her head, stepping away from the wagon at her back. "Unfortunately, I have a few other things to deal with this evening. Another time. Say, would you know where the cooking area is? Or where they keep the slaughter animals."

"I'll hold you to that fight, Mrs. Blackfire. Cooking tents are off that way." He said, pointing. "Just follow your nose, you should get the smell of the kitchens soon enough. Have a good night."

Trissa gave a small wave and headed off in the indicated direction, and soon enough came across the lovely smell of roasting meat.

 _Perfect_ , she thought a few minutes later as she approached the tent. _Now, how to go about this…_

…

It had taken a good deal of talking and cost her about twenty 'crowns' (as the currency in this land was called) to bribe the head cook, but fifteen minutes after arriving at the tent Trissa walked out with six full petty soul gems, a leg from one of the chickens she killed, fruit which may-or-may not be an apple, and a fresh roll.

She was halfway to her tent when she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. She stopped, her instincts (which were rarely wrong) telling her she was being watched.

She slowly turned, scanning the surrounding tents, her eyes straining to pierce the shadows of the fallen dusk. Finally, she saw her observer.

She was a child, around the age of four, with black hair. She was wearing a dirty dress, and had no shoes on her feet. Here eyes, though...they were violet, and seemed to glow in the darkness. They were cold, calculating, aged.

They were not the eyes of a child.

Still, Trissa felt she should give the girl the benefit of the doubt. "Can I help you, little one?" She asked.

The girl chuckled darkly. "What gives you any right to offer help, Dragonborn? You are a thief, a murderer, and a traitor. What aid could someone like you ever hope to provide, daughter of Nirn?"

Trissa's gaze hardened, and she felt the flames of Rage flicker deep within at the child's words. Now at anything particular she'd said; Trissa had long ago recognized her shortcomings, and new she'd never be the quintessential hero from the stories. She was a thief at heart, and that would never change.

No, what caused her anger to snap its restraints was the _tone_ of her voice; the sneering, arrogance of one who knew everything, and was more than willing to use that knowledge for their own sick amusement.

Only one other being had _ever_ spoken to her in that _exact_ tone, and she would never forget it.

" _ **Mora…**_ " She growled deep in her throat, taking a menacing step towards the child-thing before her, whose expression changed from smug to one of true fear. "I don't know if this is really you or one of your sick little followers Daedra, but I don't _care_!" She could feel fire licking along her skin and armor as her Ancestor's Wrath engulfed her, and she summoned firebolts into her empty hands, flames flickering through her fingers. "I am _**DONE**_ with you! With being your pawn! You bring naught but _pain and sorrow_ , and I will have _no more part in it_!"

The girl was backing away now, the flames wreathing the dragonborn reflecting in her eyes, Trissa's own eyes having turned from deep red to a bright, reptilian gold as her Dragonsoul rose closer to the surface.

She raised a hand and shot a blast of fire at the girl, striking the ground before her and causing her to fall backwards onto her rear.

" _RU, MAL SUNVAAR._ " She rumbled, and the girl scrambled away and into the darkness.

Trissa extinguished her spells, taking a deep breath and forcing her dragon-half back down as the fire surrounding her flickered out.

 _Damn. That was not good._ She thought, glancing around and thanking Akatosh that no-one seemed to have seen her little outburst. _I need to be better than that. Fuck, I am tired._

Trissa shook her head, and with one final glance after the long-gone girl, continued on her way back to her tent, and the bed that awaited her there.

…

Elva finally stopped running as she reached her tent, glancing around fearfully to see if the madwoman in fire had followed her.

Satisfied she was safe, the girl-child snuck inside, tiptoeing past her sleeping caretaker into her small 'room', and sank to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest as she thought back on what just happened.

Her power, in addition to letting her sense when someone nearby was going to be in pain, allowed her to know exactly what she would have to say to hurt people. Growing surrounded by the near-constant crying of her instincts to stop people's pain, Elva had grown somewhat spiteful, and on occasion enjoyed using her power to get a reaction from people.

Usually they felt shock, or sadness, or occasionally anger, but how this woman had reacted…

Elva had honestly thought she was going to kill her.

The little child shivered as the remembered the burning _rage_ in that woman's eyes, as her body lit itself like a pyre in response to her anger.

And her eyes, oh _eyes_ , they changed as well. Those golden, slit-pupiled eyes...it was like Saphira, but lacking any of the compassion or care that she saw from the one creature whom she actually respected.

Elva knew, that somehow, she had just faced the anger of a Dragon, and she was very lucky to have escaped unburned.

 _What_ is _she?_ Elva though just as the darkness of sleep took her exhausted mind away.

 ** _A/N_ : Not much to say for this one: just a short chapter to establish some backstory and character for Trissa before things start escalating next chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading; if you're new and like what you saw, please follow and fave. If you aren't or just have something to say, please leave a Review, and I will see you guys in the next chapter.**

Fah Bormahu ahrk fin Dovahkiin, Fonaar!


	6. Chapter 6

Ch 6

Trissa was awoken from a dreamless sleep by a sharp rapping on wood. Her eyes opened sluggishly and she looked around, her groggy mind for a moment confused by her surroundings until it caught up with her memories. Shaking off the residual sleep, she sat up and stretched her arm over her head.

The rapping came again, and she realized that it was someone knocking on one of her tent-poles.

"Yes? Who is it?"

"I have come to bring you to Lady Nasuada." A lilting voice purred. She recognized the voice as that of the furred elf from yesterday.

"Give me a moment!" She said as she climbed off her cot, clad now in the simple clothes she'd bought back in Oakhollow. Deciding against armor for the moment, she belted on her daggers and sword and threw on her traveling cloak, raising the hood as she stepped out of the tent.

Blohdgarm waited outside the tent with a bored expression on his face, barely sparing the dunmer woman a glance before turning and waving for her to follow. A bit irked by the man's dismissive behavior, Trissa followed. She glanced around and saw that two other elves had moved to flank her, the trio creating an escort for her as they made their way towards the command tent.

Trissa huffed with annoyance. "I thought that letting Saphira into my mind was supposed to make the lot of you trust me." She said with a slight edge to her voice.

"The Lady Nasuada believes in prudence when it comes to newcomers. There have already been several attempts on her life, two from men who had previously been screened. Nothing is certain in times of war." Blodhgarm purred, his voice soft.

Trissa couldn't really fault that logic, but there was something else she wanted to ask him.

"My apologies, I don't mean to pry, but why do you have fur? Do you follow Hircine or something?"

This actually caused the elven man to look back at her, one eyebrow raised. "I do not know whom you refer to, but no, I do not _follow_ anyone. I look this way because I find it pleasing, that is all."

Trissa nodded hesitantly, and the rest of the walk passed in silence until the tent came into view. Saphira was lying outside the tent, head resting on her forepaws, eyes closed. One of her lids lazily rose at the quartet's approach, the dinner-plate sized eye of deepest blue regarding the four elves. The three natives stopped and bowed at the waist, making a strange hand motion and speaking in that strange language she could not understand.

Trissa just nodded. "Drem Yol Lok, Briahna Saphira." She said, then walked past the stopped elves, two of whom regarded her with disapproval. She glanced back at the Wolf-Elf. "Well, you coming?" She asked.

Blodgharm glanced at the other two, who nodded and took up position beside the door as Trissa walked into the tent.

The tent was similarly occupied as it was the day before. Nasuada was seated in her throne, king Orin standing to her left, and a large man in chainmail armor at her right.

Eragon was standing to one side with Arya, the two looking over as Trissa entered, Saphira's head sliding through her flap shortly after and receiving a scratch along the brow from Eragon and rumbling appreciatively at the feeling.

On the other side of the tent there were two women and a small child. One woman was about her height, with bright blue eyes and wearing a gold armband in the shape of a snake. The other, whose skirts the child was hiding behind, was shorter, with a rounded face and thick, curly brown hair.

Trissa recognized the child, though, as she was the strange girl from the night before who she sent scurrying into the darkness.

Nasuada turned from her conversation with the armored man as Trissa entered.

"Ah, Blodhgarm, Miss. Darkfire, perfect. Eragon and Arya just finished telling us about what happened in their travels through the empire. We can get started then."

Trissa glanced at the unknown humans. "I don't believe we've all been introduced." She said.

"Of course. This is Jörmundur, one of my advisors and military commanders," she gestured to the armored man, "This is Trianna, the leader of Du Vrangr Gata, the Varden's wizards." The woman nodded. "And that is Angela and Elva.." The curly haired woman smiled and gave a small wave, while the girl shrunk away.

Trissa felt a pang of guilt to pinch in her chest as she realized that she probably overreacted the night before.

"Trissa Darkfire." The dunmer said, nodding in return and lowering her hood. "Now, I believe I promised to explain myself."

"Indeed you did." King Orin said, a hint of eagerness in his voice.

Trissa took a deep breath and crossed her arms, lowering her head as she placed most of her weight on her back leg, considering where to start. "Alright, what I'm going to tell you will probably sound insane, but please bear with me. First off, how familiar are all of you with the Aedra and the Daedra?"

Most of the faces in the room looked confused, but she caught Angela starting in surprise. "I assume you've never heard of them." She said, ignoring the woman for the moment. "Well, to put it very simply, the Aedra-or Divines-are a pantheon of nine supernatural beings-Gods, essentially- who are regarded as benevolent and good in most circumstances, embodying ideals and concepts like Love, Honor, Beauty, Commerce. etcetera; the Daedra are a group of sixteen beings who have a similar level of power, but are far more of a mixed bag when it comes to their intentions for mortals. Some are decent enough, like Azura, Meridia, and Nocturnal, while others like Molag-Bal, Boethiah and Hermaeus Mora care little to naught at all for Men or Mer and use mortals as tools and playthings in their sick games."

"While this is interesting, what does this have to do with who you are, and how Arya sensed dozens of minds within your own?" Nausuada asked.

She paused again, briefly considering if this was the best course of action, but continued. "It has quite a bit to do with that, actually, considering it is because of one of the divines that I'm here in your world."

The reactions were about what she'd expected.

"So you're saying you were sent to help us by...what, a god? That's preposterous." Arya said scornfully. Blohdgarm's unamused expression said he shared the sentiment. Most of the humans in the tent looked at her with either disbelief or contempt, save the one called Angela, who seemed to be sizing her up. However, it was Orin that picked up on the hint in what she had said.

"Wait, you said 'our world.' Are you implying that you aren't from this planet?" He said.

Trissa nodded. "Exactly. I come from a world called Nirn, which was created at the beginning of time by the death of the god Lorkain. The Divines and the Daedra played a role in creation as well, but it was primarily Lorkain's death that cause Nirn and it's many people's to be. However I have recently found out that shortly after Nirn's birth, the Aedra and Daedra decided to see if they could accomplish together what Lorkain had died to do alone. And as such, they pooled their powers together and created this world, your own."

There was a pause, then Arya spoke again. "Well, that's a _slightly_ less fanciful explanation for the world's creation than the one the dwarves came up with. However that doesn't make it any less untrue."

 _She is telling the truth._

Saphira's voice slipped quietly into the minds of all present, and all looked at her. _Did you forget that I'd looked at her mind already?_

A few sheepish faces showed that some had.

 _I saw her in a place I do not recognize, surrounded by unfamiliar two-legs species, and earlier her fighting beasts like I had never seen. She is either from another world, as she claims, or from a land so far away it may as well be another world. Which it is makes no difference._ The dragon snorted as she finished, trickles of smoke wafting from her nostrils.

Eragon looked at his dragon with no small amount of hurt, even as the others in the tent tried to process this information. _Why did you not tell me this yesterday?_ He asked.

 _She asked me not to._ Saphira said, projecting a small feeling of regret through their link. _I would have spoken if she did not, but I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt._

Eragon cocked an eyebrow at that. _No offense, Saphira, but that doesn't seem very normal for you. Normally you're suspicious of almost anyone new._

Saphira hummed quietly, thoughtful. _I don't know Eragon; there is something about her...she is different._ Very _different. And she had to leave behind a family to come here; a mate, and offspring, and a good deal of friends. Yet she doesn't seem resentful; she genuinely wants to help us. I thought that was enough to give her a day._

Eragon couldn't really fault her reasoning. He sent an understanding feeling to his partner and tuned back in just as conversation started up again.

"From what you've said," Orin spoke up, "these 'gods' of yours, both the good and the bad, seem to have a noticeable impact on 'your world'. If they created ours as well, like you claim, why haven't they done the same here?"

"King Orin, do you actually believe her?" Jörmundur said with some disbelief, still not fully convinced even after Saphira's statement. "This is lunacy."

However it was Nasuada that answered. "Everything is possible until it is proven otherwise, Jörmundur; thus is the creed of Science, yes?" She glanced at Orin, who was a little surprised at the woman's parroting of his term. "I haven't been entirely toning you out when you get to ranting, Orin." She said with a small smirk. The king chuckled a bit at that.

Gesturing to Trissa, she continued. "Even if we decide that this woman somehow managed to trick Saphira with false memories, she still looks nothing like any race I have ever seen, speaks in strange and unfamiliar tongues, and has powers in her words unlike any magic I've ever seen. Can any of you say differently?" She said, looking at the five present wizards.

"Well, I haven't seen it yet, so I can't exactly say…" Trianna said, both cautious and curious in her tone of voice.

Nasuada looked back to Trissa. "Well, could you demonstrate this 'Shout' you spoke of yesterday?"

Trissa thought for a moment for an appropriate, then took a breath.

" _FEIM_!" She shouted, and the world took on a bluish tint as her body faded to a spectral outline.

Several of the people in the tent blinked in surprise.

"That is the shout 'Become Ethereal'. In this state, I cannot harm or be harmed by any known force in the universe." The world returned to its normal color as the shout's effect faded. "It is rather useful if one needs to descend from a high place very quickly."

Nasuada looked at Trianna and Angela. "Well?" she said.

Trianna's mouth was open slightly. "I...the amount of energy that should take...its…" She shook her head, snapping out of the slight trance her awe had put her in. "No, my lady, I've never seen anything like that."

Angela was staring intently at the Dunmer. "I can't say I've ever seen anything like that before either. And that's an impressive feat to accomplish." She said.

"May I continue?" Trissa asked, a little annoyed with the delay.

Arya still looked a bit annoyed, and Eragon was glaring at her with no small deal of suspicion, but Nasuada waved for her to continue.

"To answer your question, King Orin, the reason the Daedra and the Divines have not interfered overmuch in this world is because many of them lost interest in it shortly after it's creation. Why, I do not know, but I suspect that the happenings of Nirn drew them back and they simply didn't see the point in dividing their attentions between two worlds."

Blohdgarm made a noise halfway between a snort and a growl. "If such beings would create a world and then abandon it, they don't seem worthy of worship."

Trissa just shrugged. "I won't argue with that. And I never said you had to worship them, just that they made this place. There are plenty of people back on Nirn who do not worship Aedra or Daedra, but nonetheless they are responsible for it's creation and many of the occurrences in my world."

Eragon spoke up then. "Ok... even if we did believe you, why would your 'gods' send you here? You said yourself that they left or lost interest in us after creating the world."

"I said MOST did, boy." Eragon bristled at that, but she continued without giving him the chance to respond. "However, one of those who did not was Akatosh, The Dragon-God of Time, Chief of the Divines."

Saphira snorted at that. _Dragon God? Dragons do not need some invisible sky-thing to tell us what to do._

"Akatosh is called the Dragon-God because he takes the form of a Dragon in many of his interactions with mortals, and because he is the father of Nirnian dragons; and I imagine your kind as well, Briinah. He does not demand worship from his children, just the same measure of respect you'd give to your sire or your grandsire." Trissa said.

Saphira grumbled in her throat, but let the matter rest, though Eragon chuckled as she made a further

"Wait, you have Dragons where you are from?" Arya asked, her expression changing from irritated to...maybe hopeful? Trissa couldn't say for sure, these elves were very good at keeping their expressions flat for the most part.

Saphira and Eragon;s expressions were far easier to read, the dragon's head perking up and the human boy looking at the dragon with some measure of joy.

"Aye, though they are very different from you, Briinah." The hopeful aura in the tent fell quickly, and Trissa wondered what she'd said that had caused these massive swings in mood.

"How, exactly, are they different?" Arya asked.

"For one thing, they don't have forelimbs; their wings function as front legs when they land, kind of like a bat's. And they can talk like you and me, not with their minds. Not to mention, as far as I know, all of them are male." She said.

"That makes no sense. How could a species survive if they are all male, how would they breed?" Angela spoke up.

Trissa snorted. "The Dov do not need to breed, they are Immortal."

That casued a pause. "When you say 'Immortal'," Arya said cautiously. "Do you mean that they do not age, or…"

"No, I mean Immortal. Nirnian dragons are so close to Akatosh that they are closer to Demigods than living creatures. You can slay their bodies, but unless one specific criteria is met after that 'death' any other dragon or mortal with a powerful enough Voice can come along and bring them back good as new." She looked at Saphira. "I assume by the fact that you have female dragons that Alagaësian dov are closer to regular mortals than ours; they breed and can die normally."

"Yes, though unless something kills them a dragon could theoretically live forever." Eragon said, arms crossed across his chest.

Trissa nodded. "Ah, so agelessness as opposed to immortality. But I have gotten off track. It was Akatosh who sent me here. He gave me one last duty to fulfill before I can finally rest after a life spent fighting for...well, what I've seen as the 'Good Side', I suppose." The woman trailed off, her eyes on the floor as she briefly drifted to the past. "As for _why me_ , that would be because of who I am."

She straightened her posture and put a hand on the pommel of her sword, taking up the most authoritative stance she could, the same one she had when she first met the Emperor.

"As I said, I am Trissa Blackfire, a Dark-Elf hailing born in the Province of Morrowind who later moved to the province of Skyrim. I am also the Archmage of the College of Winterhold, the Harbinger of the Companions, the Master of the Thieves Guild, a Nightingale of Nocturnal, Master of the Blades, a Praetorian of the Imperial Legion, Champion of Azura and Meridia, the slayer of Alduin, Lord Harkon, and Miriak, and most importantly, I am _Dovahkiin._ " She said the last word with a hint of the Thu'um, letting the tent rumble with the power of her Voice.

"And what is Dovahkiin, to have caused the 'God of Time' to send you from one world to another?" Arya snapped, her patience frayed by the woman's rambling.

" _Dragonborn."_

Saphira's voice sounded in the minds of everyone present, and her head slithered a little ways out of the tent, away from Trissa. _"That is what that word means, Yes? I do not know how I know it, but my soul tells me this. Am I right?"_

Trissa smiled sadly at the dragon, sensing the minute waves of fear that wafted off of the dragon's mind. She noticed how the other people in the room tensed as they felt it as well, Eragon's hand going to the hilt of his sword as he took a reflexive half-step to move between Saphira and Trissa.

 _Why is he so protective of her?_ Trissa thought. _This seems to go beyond mere friendship. No matter, I'll find out latter._

"Geh, Briinah." Trissa finally said. "Yes, you are right. I am dragonborn."

"And what is a _Dragonborn_ , exactly?" Arya hissed, suspicions flitting at the edge of her mind.

"The Dragonborn." Trissa began, "Are mortals, be they Men, Mer, Khajiit, or Argonians, who are born with a Dovahsil; the blood and soul of a Dragon. Such beings are able to instinctively learn the Thu'um in the way dragons do, where otherwise it would take years of study to master the art. They are also, in almost every instance of their birth, destined to do incredible things, be they good or evil."

She paused and took a breath. "However none of _that_ is really what we are known for. Or at least, not what _I_ was known for. I mentioned how, except in one specific circumstance, the Dov of my world are immortal?" There were cautious nods. "Well, that one exception is other dragons. When one Dov kills another, they can choose to absorb the soul of their foe to grow in power. It is the same for Dragonborn, except we cannot choose whether to absorb the Souls of Dov we slay. In fact we hunger for them, to a degree."

Eragon and Arya's eyes narrowed, and Blodhgarm growled deep in his throat. "So on the field, when you were going to attack Saphira, that was…" Eragon started.

"The Dragonborn are _designed_ to be the ultimate dragonslayers, and we are feared and respected by the Dov for this fact; we are their natural predators, placed in the world by Akatosh to keep his children in check and stay their natural desire for conquest and domination through fear of our retribution." Trissa said. Then she chuckled. "As for the field...well, part of that was a reflexive desire to protect you all from what I saw as a threat, but I will admit a lot of it was simple instinct. It's been a few years since I last 'fed'."

Eragon drew his sword in an instant, Arya and Blodgharm doing the same."If you want Saphira, you'll have to go through me." The boy said.

Trissa snorted. "Oh calm down boy. It's not that great a craving that I can't resist it, and I only hunt Dov who show themselves to be dangerous to the common people."

That seemed to placate Eragon somewhat, as he lowered his blade slowly and sheathed it. The elves were even slower to do so, Arya glaring daggers at the Dunmer that promised some form of conflict in the future.

Nasuada leaned forward then, an intense look in her eyes. "Miss Darkfire…"

"Mrs."

"...ok, Mrs Darkfire, you are saying you have experience fighting dragons?"

"Heh." Trissa chuckled. "Yes, you could call forty-plus years of on-and-off hunting 'experience'. Though I don't know how effective my tactics would be against your dragons; like I said, they are rather different than my own."

"Forty?" Orin asked. "No offense, you don't look that old."

"Elves can live up to a thousand years in Nirn. I was in my seventy-ninth year when I found myself here, You Highness." Trissa said.

Nasuada continued as if the King hadn't interrupted. "Hmm...well, I think that's just about enough talk for now. From what you've said, which I am inclined to believe, you could be a very valuable ally for the Varden. But first, we need to see exactly what you can do."

Trissa grinned at the dark skinned woman, intrigued by where this may be leading. "Well, _my lady_ , what did you have in mind?"

...

 _ **A/N:**_ **Well hello friendly readers, thanks for dropping by. Sorry about the massive wall of exposition and information after I promised escalation, but this was necessary to get everyone important on more-or-less the same page, and it'll help establish some initial relationships and opinions between characters. Next chapter should be a bit more interesting, as Trissa goes through the Varden's 'Initiation Process' and deals with her...overreaction from last chapter.**

 **Once again, thanks for reading; if you're new and like what you saw, please follow and fave. If you aren't or just have something to say, please leave a Review, and I will see you guys in the next chapter.**

Fah Bormahu ahrk fin Dovahkiin, Fonaar!


	7. Chapter 7

Ch 7

Trissa was back in her tent now, grabbing her armor before she headed over to the training field so that the leadership of the rebellion could get an idea of what she could do.

However, as she slid on her armor, her mind was wrapped up in a haze of guilt and anger.

 _That poor, poor child…_

She was of course thinking of Elva, the young girl who was present with Angela at the meeting. The same one she had mistaken for some spawn of Hermaeus Mora, and had scared half to death less than a day before.

The orphan child who was less than a year old, cursed to feel and try and prevent the pain of everyone around her due to a fucking _grammatical error!_

She'd been horrified when the child's situation had been explained to her, and it had taken a great deal of self-control not to Shout Eragon out of that tent that very instant.

She still may have, eventually, had it not been for the boy's sincere promise to find a fix for the girl's affliction, and the thorough dressing-down the girl gave to him and the rest of the council.

But when she'd turned to her…

The fear in that child's eyes would be sticking with her for a while, she knew.

She shook her head and banished the thoughts. There was nothing she could do for the girl at the moment, and she had somewhere to be.

Weapons and armor secured, she swept from the tent after casting a poison rune again on the floor and quickly made her way to the training field.

Nasuada, Eragon, Saphira, Arya, Trianna, and Orin were waiting there for her along with the six guards she had seen yesterday and a few other people who he didn't recognize.

Trissa stopped in front of them with a nod to Nasuada and Orrin, making a point to ignore Arya. "Well, where would you like to begin?"

Arya stepped forward. "You called yourself 'Archmage', I assume that means you know magic beyond these Shouts you've shown us?"

Trissa nodded.

"Then we'll start with that. How extensive is your knowledge of the Ancient Language?"

Trissa scrunched her brow in confusion. "The what?"

Arya got another faint look of annoyance on her face. "The language you use for your magic. I can understand if you have a different name for it, but…"

"What are you talking about? You don't need to speak to perform most magics." Trissa said, summoning Flames in her left hand and holding it up to the elf.

Arya's eyes widened, and most of the people gathered adopted surprised expressions. She looked at Trissa, then at the fire, then back at Trissa, then lowered her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.

" _Of course, her magic works on a completely different system. Why wouldn't it?"_ Arya said in that language Trissa couldn't understand.

"So... I'm assuming that your magic works differently than this?" Trissa said, gesturing to the fire flickering between her fingers.

"Yes...yes it does." Eragon said, still looking at the flames burning in Trissa's hand with no small amount of confusion and a little awe.

"Why don't you just explain how your magic works. I think it will make things much simpler." Nasuada suggested.

Trissa looked between the different locals, seeing a mix of caution and curiosity on the humanoids while the dragon's expression was unreadable; though her body language showed she was tense.

After a moment, Trissa nodded. She closed her eyes for a moment, calling up her memories of the year she spent teaching full-time at the College, just before the War started up.

"Magic," She began, as she had many a time back in Winterfell, before pausing and correcting, "Nirnian magic, that is; is also called the Clever Craft. It is, at the most basic definition, the ability to alter the physical world using Magika."

"Magika?" Trianna and Orin asked at almost the exact same moment.

Trissa's eye twitched in disbelief that they knew so little about one of the most _basic elements of the natural world_...but bit back a retort.

"Magika is the energy that Mages and other spellcasters channel to cast spells." She said.

"Channel? So, this 'Magika' is separate from you?" Orin asked.

Trissa nodded. "Yes and no. Magika is an ambient energy that permeates and fills all living, and some nonliving, things, but we don't draw it from the environment. Every sapient being has a natural 'pool' of magika that rests in their bodies-in a metaphorical sense, of course-which can be used to power spells. When that 'pool' runs dry, you must wait for it to refill at least somewhat before you can cast again."

"Wait, you can completely drain your…'Magika' store safely? It has no ill effects?" Trianna asked, sounding almost shocked.

"...yes...Magika pertains entirely to Magic; using up the pool has no effect on the body, it just means a Mage cannot cast spells, and is all but defenseless for a few moments until enough Magika regenerates for him or her to summon a destruction spell, a ward, etcetera."

"You have not mentioned any kind of control method for this 'Magika' Energy. How do you get it to do what you want, or prevent your magic from getting out of control?" Arya said tersely.

"What exactly do you mean by 'Destruction Spell'?" Eragon asked.

Trissa's eyes flicked to the two elfoids briefly before continuing. "Those questions are rather connected. Magika cannot just be aimlessly channeled to have an effect. You need a way to focus it, and that is where the Schools come in."

"Magic, for the most part, is arranged into six schools of Magic; Destruction, Restoration, Illusion, Alteration, Conjuration, and Enchanting; though Enchantments work much different from other magics so I'll be skipping them for this discussion."

"Each school focuses on harnessing Magika in a different way. Destruction is the offensive school; utilizing the elements of fire, ice, and lightning to smite your foes. Like so."  
With that Trissa turned to an unused archery target about a hundred yards away, summoning a Firebolt in one hand and a Lightning Bolt in the other. She clenched her fists, feeling the drain to her Magika stores as the energy flowed to her hands, before unleashing the blast with a thrust of her hands.

The Lightning got there first, striking the target with a CRACK that nearly split the unprepared object in twain before the firebolt struck moments later, lighting the target on fire, triggering startled yelps as men started trying to douse the sudden fire.

Trissa winced, and glanced back at the surprised onlookers. "Ah, sorry. One moment, please."  
She quickly made her way over to the target and waved away the nearby men, putting her hands together palms-out and spraying the flames with a blast of icy energy, smothering the fire beneath the Frost.

The men around her had a mixture of awed and frightened expressions as she turned back to them; looks she was more than familiar with by now.

"Ah...sorry, gentlemen." She said shrugging. "Might have got a little overzealous with that demonstration."  
She heard a few chuckles and one faint 'ya think?' but ignored them and made her way back to the cluster of her 'audience' who regarded her with a variety of expressions from thoughtful to curious to shocked to faintly irked.

"So," Trissa continued, trying to preserve some of her professional pride as she ignored the accident. "That is a good example of the school of Destruction. Shall I move on to the others?"  
Nasuada nodded, an almost hungry gleam in her eye. "Yes, please."

…

And so, she did, explaining the other schools and demonstrating what they could do.

The Healing and Wards of Restoration (there wasn't really an option to demonstrate the anti-undead spells, unfortunately).

The Summoned Weapons and Familiars of Conjuration (she decided that an Atronach might be a bit too much for right now, especially after that first incident).

The Mage Lights and Natural Armor of Alteration (she had never managed to do very well with this school, even though Paralysis would be _very_ useful for her line of work).

And lastly, the Mind-Altering tricks and Invisibility of Illusion Magic: her most used school, and the only one she had managed to Master.

She thought she would treasure the looks on their faces when she turned invisible until the day she died.

"And, that about covers it." Trissa finally said, after almost a full hour demonstrating her abilities. "Any last questions."

"Yes." Eragon spoke up. "The magic you've show us is...impressive." Trissa held in a snort at the understatement. "But, how did you _learn_ these spells? You don't focus them through words so...how?"

By the Nine, she felt like she was back at the College, teaching some nord bumpkin how to not set themselves on fire. They were just so... _uninformed_.

She took a breath.

"Spellbooks. I read and studied specially-made books that taught me how to use every one of these spells. Once you read a Spellbook, and fully _understand_ the information within it, the spells imbued in the paper make the spell a part of you, so to speak. The magic becomes a natural, almost reflexive action. You think 'I need to cast a lightning bolt' and you do without having to really think about _how_ : it's like the muscle memory you develop training with a weapon, but it occurs near-instantly, aided by the enchantments in the book."

Eragon didn't look satisfied by that, but Trissa spoke up before he could ask something else.  
"So, I've talked for a rather long while about my magic, and yet I know nothing about yours. Would you be partial to fixing that disparity?" She asked.

Almost as one the group glanced at Arya, who stepped forward with the barest hint of irritation on her face.

So, it seemed Elves were the Magic specialists here as well.

 _Lovely._

Arya, in a rather crisp and concise manner compared to Trissa's in-depth seminar, explained that the people of this plane perform magic by channeling the life-energy of themselves or other creatures. They control the shape and effect of this channeled energy using the language of a long-dead race, simply called 'The Ancient Language' today. This replicated what Magika did, bringing about changes to the world around them in nearly any way they could imagine and speak. Arya also explained some of the more universal uses, like Scrying and Wards.

Oh, and let's not forget the dangers: if you mispronounce a word you could make the spell do something completely different than what you wanted (a pair of violet eyes flashed through Trissa's mind at that), or if you underestimate how much energy it will cost to perform an action, the magic could drain away your entire life force and kill you.

The Scholarly Archmage part of the Dovahkiin's mind found the differences between the styles _fascinating_. While Nirnian magic was easier to learn, more reliable and repeatable, as well as _exceptionally_ less dangerous to use (at least in the case of common, non-conjuration spells), Alagaësian magic was _incredibly_ adaptable and fluid, much more than the Nirnian style.

To put it simply, with Nirnian magic, you can do one of a set number of things very reliably many times, while with Alagaësian magic you could do basically **anything** , but with much less certainty of outcome and a greater level of personal danger when using more powerful spells.

The rest of her, though, thought they were crazy to keep using such a risky method for magic as one that _literally drained their life-force to fuel it_.

Though she had to admit, their wards were _much_ more useful than hers.

...

After that, they moved on to mental abilities. Much to Trissa's surprise, she was told that it was not just dragons, but almost all magic users (and some non-mages) that had the ability to speak to, invade, and control the minds of others.

"So, how does one protect themselves from magic-users if they can invade your mind?" She asked.

"Anyone with the right training can learn to defend themselves from mental attack." Arya said, somewhat patronizingly.

"Ok, so how do you do that?"

"Focus on one thing, an image, a feeling, a sound, what have you; and think only about that. Whatever you are thinking of will be all your attacker will be able to see, and that will help keep them out of your mind. Once you think you are ready, nod, and I will attempt to breach your defenses and take control."

"Very well." Trissa said, closing her eyes.

After about a half minute, she nodded for Arya to begin.

The elf closed her eyes as well and struck out at Trissa's mind with a narrow lance of thought. Trissa grimaced and felt her defenses bend under the vicious attack, but managed to keep Arya out of her mind.

Arya couldn't help but give the Dunmer some credit. For having never used a mental defence before she was holding up rather well; keeping her defenses somewhat fluid as her thoughts cycled through a series of four faces, and making it more difficult for Arya to find a crack in the mental wall to exploit.

However, Arya was much more experienced that Trissa in the field of mental combat, and it took less than a minute after that first strike to wiggle into and then shatter the Dragonborn's barrier, breaking into her mind proper and seize control of her limbs; forcing Trissa to tense up against her will.

Arya held control for a moment, then just as she began to pull back into her mind and end the exercise, another presence, like before, slammed into her thought-tendril with a mental roar.

" _You DARE return here, Joor? And you would try to take control of a Dovah? I will rend you apart!_ " The other mind raged, and before Arya could extract herself more began to pile on. Suddenly the native elf found herself on the defensive, desperately trying to fend off these alien consciousnesses, unable to escape back into her own head, trapped by these vicious monsters as pain shoot through her mind as they ripped and tore at her mental probe, screeching and roaring and shouting in that guttural tongue that Trissa dropped into every so often.

Then suddenly another mind was there, pulling her attackers off, and after a few frantic moments she was able to break free, snapping back into her own head and collapsing to her knees, skull pounding.

"Arya!" Eragon cried, rushing to her side. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"I'm fine." She said, forcing herself to her feet while ignoring Eragon's offered hand. Turning her attention back to her opponent, she saw that Trissa's face was scrunched with concentration and more than a little pain, hands on her temples as she swayed somewhat on her feet.

"What did you do?" Arya snarled at Trissa. "What were those... _things_ inside your head?"  
The pained look abated somewhat, and the Dunmer focused on her evaluator. "My apologies, I had no idea that they would react like that. I've never had someone else inside my mind before, as I said."

"What. _Are_. They." Arya said again, forcing her voice to a calmer tone, though inside she still seethed.

Trissa sighed, wincing as something inside her skull caused pain to flare. "Those were the souls of the Dragons I have slain over the years, and the souls of the Dragons they consumed to gain power, and the souls those dragons consumed, and beyond that third stage the minds of the Dov are so faint as to not be detectable to me."

Arya looked a little taken aback by that. "Those were-"

"Dragons, yes, as I said." Trissa snapped, her temper fraying as she tried to quiet the roaring in her mind while answering Arya's questions.

"How many were there?" Eragon asked Arya quietly, trying to draw her attention away from Trissa, sensing some growing conflict on the edge of the interaction.

Trissa head him, however, and answered for the native elf. "There are one hundred and sixty-two _Dovahsiil_ that I took personally, four hundred-odd souls taken those dragons: who are a notably quieter than that first group, and roughly a seven hundred beyond them who are little more than echoes in the depths of my mind." The Dunmer said, her voice a bit more even as the dragon souls began to calm down.

She gave a thin, humorless smile to the human rider. "As you can imagine, it gets a little...crowded in here."

There were a few moments of quiet as the knowledge that over a thousand Dragons made their home in this woman's head sunk in, before Nasuada spoke up from the sidelines, having remained more-or-less silent while Arya evaluated Trissa's skills.

"Perhaps it would be best if we took a short break." The leader of the Varden suggested. "You have been working for a good few hours, Mrs. Darkfire. Jerra," she said, turning to the servant who had accompanied her to this assessment, "please go to the kitchens, and get a few men to bring food and drink. I think we could all use it at this point."

"Yes, my lady." The younger girl said before hurrying off. Trissa nodded her appreciation before heading over to a patch of shade near the edge of the field and taking a seat.

Nassuada's expression turned a little more analytical as she turned away from the dark elf, gesturing for Arya, Eragon, and Trianna to join her as she walked a short distance away.

The Varden's magical experts gathered about her, and Nasuada spoke, all business.  
"Well? What are your opinions?" She asked, eyes moving between the three spellcasters.

Trianna just shook her head. "I cannot really say anything, my lady. Her skills were far beyond my own abilities, and what with her use of an entirely different kind of magic…I was struggling just to keep up."

Eragon nodded in agreement. "Aye, she's different. But there's no mistaking she's powerful. And the very fact that her magic is _new_ means that she'd have an advantage against both common soldiers and spellcasters alike. And invisibility…I can't begin to imagine the energy or complexity we'd have to use to manage the kind of visual cloaking she can summon in mere moments."

"She is…unique." Arya said after a moment. "And as Eragon said, she is powerful and skilled with her spells, and the mechanics of her magic means she can hold nothing back in her attacks and not kill herself, not to mention fight with more traditional means." The elf paused, as if debating whether to continue, but spoke on. "To be frank, based on what I've seen, I would say she'd have a good chance of defeating some of the elven warriors I know using her magic alone."

That gave all of them pause: Arya had examined most of the spellcasters who had joined the Varden, including the now-dead Twins, and _never_ had she said anything close to that about human mages. Even Eragon, after all his training and growth since he'd become a dragon rider, wasn't sure he could best an Elf in a purely-magical confrontation. At least not without Saphira's help.

There were several moments of quiet as the Alagaësians processed this. Then Nasuada nodded, apparently satisfied. "And what of her mental defenses?" She asked.

"Her defenses are rather weak...but in all honesty, it doesn't really matter. I _pity_ the mage who attempts to break into her mind. Those...things are vicious, and they are many. It would take a great number of minds to break through the guardians to reach her memories if Mrs. Darkfire didn't want the invader to gain access."

"Hm." Nasuada said, looking at the Dragonborn intently as her mind ran through a variety of plans.

"You called them 'Things'." Eragon said after a moment of silence. "Why is that? She said that they were the minds of Dragons."

Arya glanced at the Dragonborn, who had taken a seat on a crate and was watching the masses of Varden soldiery going through their drills.

"Whatever it was that attacked me…they were _not_ dragons." Arya said firmly. "Their minds were full of…savage brutality, and greed, and a desire to _dominate_ everything in existence, from _Joor_ to..." Arya stopped, realizing she had unconsciously used a foreign word, one left imprinted on her mind during the struggle. "From _mortals,_ to each other." She corrected. "They are _not_ dragons." Arya said again, almost as if trying to convince herself.

Eragon glanced over at Saphira, and the two shared a look, but the Rider wisely decided to drop the matter. Just then, Jerra returned carrying a tray of glasses filled with chilled wine, accompanied by several men carrying platers of food.

The Varden leadership thanked the men and took some food each, while Jerra made her way over to Trissa somewhat cautiously.

"Miss?" She said hesitantly. "Would you like some wine?"

Trissa groggily opened her eyes, having slipped into a half-nap in the cloying heat. She looked up at the nervous girl and gave a small smile.

"Yes, that would be lovely, thank you." She said, taking the proffered cup and tipping it towards the servant before taking a long swig.

Jerra smiled nervously back at the sitting woman before scurrying back to Nasuada's side. The group consumed the small meal in relative silence, quickly finishing the meat and bread.

Seeing that her observers had finished, Trissa stood and made her way over to them, her usual demeanor having returned with the Dragons quieting down.

"So," Trissa said, drawing out the word a bit. "I assume I passed the Magic exam? What's next?"

Arya stepped forward, and Trissa could pick up the faintest hint of eager savagery on the Elf's otherwise stoic face.

"Now," Arya said, her voice once again perfectly calm, "we shall evaluate your combat skill, via a sparring match with the Varden's most proficient fighter. In this instance, me."

Trissa's lips curled into a grin. "Lovely. Lead the way."

…

Today was turning out to be a rather…interesting day, Eragon thought.

First there was...well, everything that the woman had said about who and what she was, and where she came from. The Rider was still trying to wrap his mind around all the different things she talked about: Daedra and Divines, other worlds and realms, and her (somehow) being both a 'Dark Elf' and a Dragon at the same time! In any other instance, he would have dismissed it as the ramblings of a Lunatic.

But Saphira had confirmed it, so he had no choice but to believe the word of this 'Dragonborn'.

And then there was the way her magic worked in a manner completely different from that which they used. Part of him, the part that had been hardened by war, was already considering how her abilities could be used to hasten the fall of Gallbatorix and the Empire. But more of him was cautious: this new method of magic was an unknown, and unknowns could be _very_ dangerous.

But perhaps the most shocking thing was just how flustered Arya seemed to be getting. Eragon could think of five, maybe six times he'd ever seen the elf completely drop the rigid control she kept over her expression; and yet the Dark Elf had caused her to slip up three times in one day.

 _What is it about her that's riling Arya up so much?_ He thought at Saphira, placing a hand on her foreleg as the two elven women moved towards a sparring ring.

The Dragoness hummed thoughtfully. _I think…it might be a combination of her being Dovahkiin, and how almost everything she's said and done goes against some of the deepest beliefs of the Elves._ She 'said' after a moment.

Eragon looked up at her. _How so?_

Saphira tilted her head so one of her eyes was gazing down at her rider. _Well, just look at her magic. Magic and the Ancient Language are very important part of Elven life; Oromis and Glaedr told us that themselves. The Elves know almost everything you could ever know about magic; their native tongue is the Ancient Language, and they are the greatest spellcasters in the land outside the riders. Then, this woman comes along and completely changes that fact, by showing that there are other ways to do magic, that don't rely on the Ancient Language at all. She is a threat to their dominance of Magical Skill in a way not even the Riders were: that is going to cause problems._

 _And that's not even mentioning what she said about these 'Gods' who supposedly created our world._ Saphira gave a snort at the thought.

 _Hm…alright, and what about her being Dragonborn?_ Eragon asked.

Saphira gave him the most deadpan expression a dragon could manage. _She is a dragon-slayer in a land with very few dragons; and the Elves have an almost unhealthy attachment to us. That is going to cause issues._

Eragon cocked his head. _Unhealthy? You don't seem to object to their attention when we visit Esmerelda._ He said somewhat teasingly.

Saphira snorted. _Just because I enjoy their attention doesn't make it any less obsessive. And then, consider that she doesn't simply_ claim _to be a Dragon-Killer: she_ just _said the voices in her head are the minds of over a thousand dragons, a hundred of whom she apparently killed_ personally.

 _And to top it all off, she said earlier she considered killing_ me _._ The Dragon thought dryly.

Eragon smiled sheepishly. _Ah, yes...I can see how that would cause issues._

Saphira rumbled as he directed his attention back to the two women, who had now taken up their positions on either end of the ring.

 _This is going to be a very intense fight, isn't it?_ Eragon thought, leaning against Saphira's side. The blue dragon rumbled lowly and wiggled a little bit to get more comfortable.

 _Indeed._ His dragon thought back, humming faintly with anticipation.

…

Trissa looked over her soon-to-be opponent with a critical eye. She was slim and lithe, which indicated a lot of speed and maneuverability. Likely had a very fluid fighting style, and a similar level of strength to herself based on her musculature.

"So, what are the terms of the fight?" She asked her opponent.

"We continue until one of us yields or gets their opponent into a losing position." Arya said, drawing her blade and speaking a few words in the Ancient Language. The spell caused a small blue spark to appear between her thumb and index finger, which she quickly ran over the edge of her sword.

"Do you have a way to dull the edge of your weapons?" She asked as the spark snapped out of existence.

Trissa nodded, drawing her daggers before focusing on her sizable Magika stores, a pulse of green alteration energy running down her arms to form a slightly glowing barrier over her blades.

"Then let us not waste any time." Arya said, falling into a fighting stance, feet shoulder-width and her thin, single-edged sword held in her right hand, off to her side. Trissa followed, spreading and bending her legs slightly as she flipped Soulblaze and Flametongue into reverse grips.

The two women stood there for a few moments, waiting for someone to make the first move.

Then at almost the same instant, they exploded into movement.

Arya shot forward, swinging her sword right to left at Trissa's side. The dunmer jumped back, avoiding the strike, and fell into a quick crouch as she landed before darting towards the other elf, intent on getting inside her guard and using the shorter range of her daggers to end the fight quickly.

However, Arya recovered from her swing faster that Trissa had anticipated, turning the missed strike into an upwards slash at her right hip, forcing Trissa to stop her charge and directly deflect the attack with Flametongue.

The attack glanced away, but even that glancing blow rattled Trissa's arm with its strength. And the _Dovahkiin_ was no weakling herself.

The two disengaged for a moment, and Trissa looked over her foe with a more cautious eye now that she had seen some of her combat style.

 _She's fast like I thought, and_ _ **much**_ _stronger than she looks._ Trissa thought, taking a few steps to the right to mirror Arya's movements. _I should have realized that, after those two attacked me yesterday. Hm... not enough time to properly analyze her skill level yet, but she's definitely on par with Hadvar at least. Might actually have to pull the sword for this one…_

Trissa grimaced at the though, loath to give this smug woman the 'honor' of being beaten by her sword-to-sword, but if it came to that or losing…

Well, the Dragonborn didn't like to lose.

"So, shall we continue?" Trissa goaded, flipping Flametongue back to a standard grip and adopting a different stance than her first one.

Arya's eyes narrowed, and she attacked again.

This time Arya swept down in an overhead cut at Trissa's shoulder, but she deflected it with a rap from Soulblaze and stabbed at Arya's gut with Flametongue. Arya twisted to the side, and the strike glanced along her side.

With Trissa inside her guard, Arya recovered from her dodge and struck at Trissa's face with her elbow, trying to force her back. She was somewhat successful, as the other elf ducked and rolled to her left to avoid the blow, coming back to her feet and launching at Arya again, swiping with her daedric dagger. Arya parried with the hilt of her sword then struck with a backhand, catching Trissa's exposed left side with her blade, causing a faint grunt of pain to force its way past the Dragonborn's lips.

Trissa used the strike to her advantage though, catching the sword against her side with her arm and twisting her blade around the crossguard, pulling Arya forwards, off balance…

And right into her uppercut.

Arya's head snapped back and she stumbled away, still retaining enough thought to yank her sword out of Trissa's trap. Now on the defensive as the Dragonborn followed up on her attack, Arya barely managing to deflect the flurry of slashes and stabs that Trissa aimed at her, eventually managing to spin away and come back with an overhead slash of her sword that blurred through the air, and was stopped on the crossed blades of Trissa's daggers.

The two pulled apart, and then came back together moments later.

The next few minutes were a mixed flurry of stabs and slashes, jabs and parries, as the fighters danced and weaved around each other; steel, ebony, and dragonbone blurring through the air as they exchanged blows, the two elves almost matching in the speed of their strikes as weapons and limbs blurred through the air in a display that left the onlookers in awe at the sheer skill of the two fighters.

After what seemed like an age, the two disengaged again and Trissa took stock of the situation.

So far, they seemed rather evenly matched in skill. She had scored some blows on Arya, and Arya had scored blows on her (though there were less of them, Trissa noted with some satisfaction), but none were telling enough to end the fight. However, she got the feeling that she had felt the local's strikes more than Arya had felt hers.

With the dulled edges of her daggers and the loss of their Flame enchantments to do additional damage, Trissa couldn't seem to get enough power behind her blows to hinder her opponent in any meaningful way, while Arya's superhuman strength and the weight of her sword meant that Trissa was most certainly feeling the hits that connected.

Additionally, Trissa was starting to feel the weight in her limbs and a raggedness to her breathing that showed the beginnings of fatigue, while her opponent seemed to have just broken a sweat; her breathing only slightly more labored than at the start of the fight.

Like it or not, it looked like she was going to have to get serious.

…

Arya watched her dark-skinned opponent carefully as they once again parted, the break giving her the chance to catch what little breath she had lost and take stock of the fight.

The dark-skinned elf was skilled, there was no doubt about that. Very few fighters could match her blow-for-blow like the so-called _dragonborn_ had; and those who could were either Elves, or Eragon. And even in the rider's case, he had the advantage of a partially-elven physiology and training from some of the greatest blade-masters in the land.

Still, the 'Dunmer' couldn't match her in strength, and it looked like she tired much faster than Arya did, so it would simply be a matter of…

Arya's focus narrowed again on her opponent as she made another shift in her feet, watchful for a sudden attack.

But her opponent's body language didn't speak to that, it instead was a rather slow shift in stance and posture, perhaps indicating another change in her fighting style, such as what happened at the start of the fight?

Arya's curiosity was peaked, and seeing how this was a spar, she decided to wait and see where this went, her annoyance with the woman curtailed in favor of learning more about her and her fighting style.

To the surprise of both Arya and their observers, Trissa then sheathed her daggers, the greenish-energy dulling the edge of the daggers vanishing moments before they slid into the sheaths on her hips.

"What are you doing?" Arya asked, a little confused but still on guard. "Are you forfeiting?" She said, more than a little condescension in her voice.

"Nid, Mon." Trissa growled, and Growl is an accurate description, for her voice was now deeper and harsher than before, raspy and... savage, with an underlying power that echoed the strange energy of her 'Shouts'.

Idly, a small part of Arya's mind likened it to one of Saphira's snarls.

Trissa's hand rose to the hilt of the sheathed sword on her back, wrapping around the black leather wrapping.

"I'm just getting serious." The Dunmer said, and drew the blade with a hiss of displaced air, the blade pointing towards the ground for a moment, before it was lifted over head and taken in a two-handed grip, Trissa taking a breath in and exhaling slowly as she lowered the sword from its raised position to hold it before her in a position which we might recognize as the Ready stance of a Samurai.  
The stance was one of control, and of waiting power; as if the Elf was a coiled spring just waiting to burst with her contained energy. It had the added effect of giving the observers of the fight a good look at Trissa's sword; a single-edged, three-foot long, slightly curved blade designed and forged in the ancient style of the Akaviri.

The sword was made primarily of Ebony, the blade a deep, shining black without the gold designs that were usually part of weapons and armor made of the material; though small whitish flecks could be glimpsed in the metal when the sunlight reflected off the obsidian blade. The guard and pommel were burnished silver, the bright metal contrasting the darkness of the blade and hilt. The guard was ornate, moulded into a design reminiscent of the coils of a serpent, and there was a small shard of obsidian set into the pommel.

In addition to being of fine make, the sword had obvious enchantments on it, like Trissa's other weapons, but even more apparent in this case. Blue lightning flickered along the length of the sword, and it excluded a faint, sickly purple glow that made Saphira (and by extension, Eragon) uncomfortable. It also had an inscription on the blade, written in the Dovah Alphabet, which glowed yellow-orange as if the metal forming the letters was fresh out of the forge.

They read; _Dinok Ahrk Yol._

Death and Fire.

Once, this blade was known as Dragonbane; a weapon forged in ancient times by the Akaviri warriors who first swore their lives to an ancient Dovahkiin, as a gift to their new lord. But when that ancient blade shattered in the skull of the World Eater, the Dragonborn spent almost a full year gathering the materials and skills necessary to rebuild her most treasured weapon, better and more _lethal_ than it was before.

And such was the Bane of Drakes reborn in the flames of the Skyforge, imbued with the power of the Thu'um itself, as _Dragonrage_.

Trissa locked eyes with Arya, and blinked. The native let out a small gasp.

For in the split second her lids closed, the Dovahkiin's crimson eyes shifted to the slit-shaped, golden eyes of a Dragon.

"" _Nu Hi Fen Luft Fin Dovah, Fahliil; Ahrk Hi Fen Mah,"_ the Dunmer growled (in a quite literal manner), as the same green energy flowed down her arms and over the sword before she leapt at Arya with no warning, and a blazing speed that she did not possess before.

Instantly, Arya found herself on the back foot, as the blitz of the other elf forced her back step after step, the other woman's blows not matching her own in strength and _surpassing_ her in speed. A downward slash was barely deflected, only for the blow to snake around faster than the mortal eye could follow into an upwards cut at her armpit that she barely dodged.

After another dozen seconds of frantic defensive swordplay, Arya tried to counter attack and retake the initiative of the bout. She stabbed at her opponent's shoulder, trying to force her back and gain some room to maneuver, but Trissa simply tilted her body ever so slightly, allowing the tip of the sword to glance off the boney scales protecting her shoulder and sending Arya stumbling, off balance and surprised by the lack of resistance to her strike.

And Trissa seized this moment with no hesitation.

Releasing a hand from her sword, she swept her foot out at the other elf's ankles while striking her chest with an openhanded punch.

The result was that Arya found her feet thrust from beneath her, while a hand between her breasts _lifted her from the ground_ for a split second before forcibly **slamming** her into the dirt with such force as to force the air from her lungs, leaving the elf gasping as dark spots swam across her vision and her ears rang.

When her vision cleared, she saw Trissa leaning over her, the tip of her sword pressed against her throat. Seeing that Arya's eyes had refocused on her, Trissa pressed the blade ever so slightly harder into the flesh of Arya's throat.

"Yield." She snarled…but there was something hiding behind the anger and savagery of the word, it was almost…pleading?

Nevertheless, Arya knew when she was beaten. "I yield." She said begrudgingly, and a faint look of relief flashed across Trissa's face, confusing the native elf even more.

The Dragonborn sucked in a breath, and with almost physical reluctance, stepped back from her downed opponent, closing her eyes as she sheathed Dragonrage with a _shnick._

When her eye opened again, the golden, reptilian orbs were gone, back to the deep red of the Dark Elf's normal gaze. Without speaking a word to the downed native, Trissa turned to the cluster of onlookers who were just now making their way towards the pair.

"I assume that is satisfactory?" She said in a clipped tone, her attention directed towards Nasuada.

The leader of the Varden paused in her step, looking quizzically at the elf. "Yes, that should be more than enough for the combat evaluation…"

"Then I shall take my leave for the moment. Send someone to find me when you have passed your verdict."

And with that she turned and walked swiftly away, soon lost in the mass of the army.

Arya gazed after her for a long moment, looking back to see Eragon once again standing over her, offering a hand up. This time Arya took it, and the rider pulled her to her feet, placing his other hand on her shoulder to steady her when her legs shook, her body still in shock from her rather abrupt meeting with the ground.

"You are alright?" Eragon asked.

Arya nodded, saying nothing, before also walking away without a word. Eragon looked back at Saphira, who was gazing after the departed outlander. She looked back at her Partner as she felt his gaze, flicking the end of her tail.

 _You were right._ She thought. _That was_ quite _the duel._

Eragon just sighed.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **Well...Hello there, everyone.**

 **...**

 **This is...a lot later coming out than I wanted. I'm really sorry about that, especially considering I told someone I'd have this out in maybe 2 weeks...well over a month ago.**

 **There has been a lot of shit that contributed to the stupid time it took to get this chapter out. The biggest thing is that I'm working basically 7 days a week this summer to build up money to live on during teh school year, 5 days on a roughly 7-5:30 schedule, and that kind of...drained my desire and motivation to write. Add that onto how I had to re-write a good half of this chapter (the Magic and Mental tests, and part of the Duel) aand you get...this.**

 **Again, really sorry.**

 **But regardless of my piss-poor performance, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you have any questions, comments, or criticisms, please feel free to leave a Review. Follow and Fave if you enjoyed, and maybe check out the other story I'm working on alongside this one,** Necessary Monsters **: the Sci-Fi Crossover to this one's Fantasy. I'll be writing up Chapter 12 for that next (I alternate between the 2 so I don't get bored of one story or the other).  
**

 **Also, if any of you would be interested in beta or just proof-reading this story, please PM me. I have plenty of room to improve.**

 **So, until the next one...  
**

Fah Bormahu ahrk fin Dovahkiin, Fonaar!


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